


Bitter Taste

by GreatWhiteShark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Light Manipulation, Needles, light blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatWhiteShark/pseuds/GreatWhiteShark
Summary: Emperor Lotor and Medic!Reader develop the twisted relationship between them a bit more, this time by tasting what each other has to offer.(Lotor x Reader)Second sequel to Touch Starved.





	1. First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Emperor Lotor and Reader spend some time together in the archives.

“We must do  _everything_ we can to support Lotor,” Allura’s voice was resolute, firm, “This is our chance to promote a new era of  **peace**.”

 

The Castle of Lions was soon to dock onto the Galra Empire’s headquarters, which you felt completely indifferent about all together. The Kral Zera was over, Lotor has ascended the throne as Emperor, and now the “era of peace” was beginning its slow approach. You glanced at Shiro from the corner of your eyes and he met your gaze, silently acknowledging your thoughts about this union.

 

Peace  _never_ lasts for long.

 

You  **both** knew this.

 

* * *

The doors hissed open and you followed the group closely from behind, taking note of all of your surroundings, from the lifeless sentries to the decorated regal banners. Oddly enough, Lotor’s headquarters was quite calming. Bigger, more roomier, and  _colder_. You liked it, like having more open space around you. It was the echo of a deep voice which captured all of the Paladin’s attention and you  _instantly_ knew who it belonged to. There, at the bottom of the stairs, stood Emperor Lotor in all his tall, poised, royal glory.

 

“I’m sure you’ll be interested in inspecting  _every_ aspect of the Galra Headquarters,” Lotor nodded to Shiro before turning to you, a certain glint flashing behind his eyes, “There are resources pertaining to that of Galran medical sciences and biology, if you were keen on  _expanding_ your horizons, good doctor.”

 

And,  _oh_ , those were the  **magic** words. Your expression slowly changed from confusion to utter bafflement, brows raised and eyes wide at the gift he was freely offering you. The gift of  _knowledge_ , something you have yet to indulge yourself with since joining Voltron. Lotor saw you turn to face Shiro, wondering if he knew what was going on, in which the Black Paladin only offered a soft, understanding smile. You narrowed your eyes - _You had something to do with this, didn't you?_ \- but the barest quirk of your lips showed millions to Lotor.

 

You wanted this and you were silently  **thanking** Shiro. Thanking him for the opportunity.

 

Stepping up besides Lotor, you folded your hands behind your back, “Lead the way, Emperor Lotor.”

 

The excitement in your voice was barely audible only to those trained to hear it. This was a chance for him to delve deeper in your mind  _outside_ of the role of a doctor. Now, you were simply the ever curious human eager to absorb any and  **all** aspects of life you can. Lotor was going to feed you, so to speak. Keep you alive and thriving for his observation and his alone.

 

* * *

 

“This is  _impressive_ ,” you muttered to yourself, taking in the expanse of the archives with pure awe, “All of  _ **this**_ is based on Galra physiology?”

 

“Everything ranging from sickness and disease to molecular biology and birth-to-death ratio,” Lotor explained while you already plucked a book from the shelf, fingers gently tracing the title, “You are free to  **stay**  as long as you wish, doctor.”

 

You opened the book to the first page, but stopped and met his stoic gaze. Trying to study him, what he really meant behind those words. Such a simple sentence, but there  _had_ to be an underlying meaning to it, especially after you caught him scrutinizing you under the microscope back in your room. Lotor’s expression was neutral, then he slowly smiled and his nebulous eyes softened in an attempt to look innocent.  _Honest_.

 

“I am not offering you this as repayment for saving my life before,” a raised brow from you, “Or even as a gift upon the union of Voltron and the Galra Empire.”

 

_Go on._

“As a doctor, I simply hope this will give you the knowledge you seek,” Lotor took a step next to you, also facing the rows and rows of books, before pulling out an old, tattered text, “Give you an understanding on something previously unknown to you. Consider this a  **chance** for you to explore what was once out of your reach.”

 

“You are being rather generous,  _Emperor_ ,” you used his title to see if he would falter, to your dismay he did not, “And what is the catch? There is  **always** a catch. The price of knowledge is not free.”

 

 _No. It certainly is not._ Lotor’s smile turned into a grin at the playful banter.

“Dinner.”

 

“Just  _you_?”

 

“With the Paladins and I. A full course meal for my allies and a much needed break from all our hard work.”

 

“Hm,” you mulled it over in your head, purposely taking a few seconds longer to answer, “I will put it under consideration.”

 

“Wonderful,” Lotor handed you the book in his hand and you gladly accepted it, “I will send a sentry to escort you to the dining hall once the food is prepared.”

 

Emperor Lotor gave you a firm nod of his head, sparing a couple quiet seconds to just memorize your face, memorize the way your eyes read over the titles of the books in your arms. You were no longer  **bored** and that fact left a small swell of pride rising in his chest. While turning to leave, he could feel your inquisitive gaze on his back, feel the heat of your stare  _questioning_ and  _wondering_ what his  **real** intentions were behind allowing you to stay here. Not just the library, but here. On his  _ship_ , away from the  _Paladins_.

 

You found that idea quite pleasant, actually. Not that you hated them, no, but a little change in scenery would do you some good. Put you back on the right track, so to say. Being a doctor was your  _second_ job. Your first was fulfilling your sense of wonder in the universe. Pulling up a chair, you placed your set of texts on the table and opened the book Lotor gave you.

 

_Ancient Galra and the Star-Faring Race Abilities._

* * *

 

Emperor Lotor took notice of the empty seat to his right. He had sent a sentry to fetch you, but the only message upon return was that “The Doctor declined.” Was he miffed at being denied? Perhaps just a  _little_ bit. Were you that preoccupied with reading that you even forgo the necessity of food? He has done something similar before, so it was not completely unheard of. Very well, he can handle rejection maturely.

 

“We leave for Oriande in  _one_ week,” Allura spoke, catching Lotor’s attention for the time being, “That should give us enough time to recover and stock our supplies.”

 

“Oh, good, I was hoping I can take a quick trip to help restock the Coalition headquarters,” the Yellow Paladin spoke, but the Emperor was thinking more about how to spend the upcoming week preoccupying himself.

 

After the Paladins dispersed to their appointed rooms, Lotor picked up a plate of food and headed towards the archives. Your meal may be cold by now, but it was still edible, and he needed to keep you  _alive_. He wanted to see what you could teach him, what he could  **learn** from you, poke and prod out of you. The second the door opened, the Emperor raised one delicate brow at the image before him.

 

You, hunched over the table with stacks of books nearly walling you in.

 

Curiously enough, you did not lift your nose to acknowledge him. Nor did you notice when his boots echoed with every clicking step he took closer to the table. You were so enamored, so  _hyper-focused_ on the words written on the page, Lotor even hovered near enough that he could  _smell_ your scent. You were in your own world, eyes flitting and  _reading_ and  _ **learning**_ , like a student cramming for a final.

 

“A- ** _hem_** ,” Lotor could only be ignored for so long and you stiffened when his deep voice rumbled near your ear.

 

“Lotor? Emperor Lotor?” You corrected yourself, finally turning to look at him reading over your shoulder, “Can I help you?”

 

_Can’t you see I’m busy?_

His catty grin spread on his lips and he sat across from you before sliding his delivery across the table. Lotor almost chuckled when your gaze flicked from the food to his face, then  _back_ to the food. The questioning raise of your brow was amusing to him. You acted like this meal was supposed to be a trade of sorts. Which, in his mind, you were not  _wrong_. Well, not  _completely_ , anyways. He motioned you to eat while taking your book and reading the title.

 

“You missed dinner.”

 

“I was not hungry.”

 

Judging by the way you scooped spoonful after spoonful, he would assume otherwise.

 

“Too caught up in your  _reading_ , good doctor?”

 

Now, this was the first time he has seen you display embarrassment. Perhaps it was not full blushing or avoiding eye contact, but Lotor was a man who could read cues so  _well_ it could be considered an art form.  **You bit your bottom lip.** That cute little canine tugged at your skin and it most definitely caught his attention like a cat zoning in on a laser pointer. A small part of him wanted to keep embarrassing you,  _ **keep**_ pushing until your face and ears turned pink in humiliation.

 

“...Yes, I was,” you admitted without shame, “There is so much I did not know, so much to take in. The Galra are very sturdy, very  _adaptable_ , it breaks every law of evolution I know and goes  _ **beyond**_ it. The star-faring race…”

 

Emperor Lotor blinked when you trailed off. You did not stop because you were confused, but rather you were wary of asking him such personal questions. You were a completely different person when surrounded by books. Or perhaps, this is how you are when you’re  _comfortable_. At  **ease**. No longer the role of a doctor, but a friend sharing their excitement over what they learned. Almost as if this was a simple, aloof exchange of conversation between two like-minded individuals.

 

“Ask.”

 

“There was not a lot of information about them. Why?”

 

If he speaks, keeps the conversation one sided, then you would occupy yourself with eating. Just another way for him to gently usher you to his will. Besides, it has been quite a long time since he was actually interested in sharing such information. And,  _dare he say_ , relaxed in anyone’s presence. For now, he would humor you.

 

“Unfortunately, many texts became lost when Daibazaal was obliterated,” he leaned on his elbows and crossed his fingers, “However, I guarantee you it is all  **true**. I, myself, am capable of one such ability granted from the star-faring race. The gift of seeing in the dark.”

 

Lotor had your complete attention by now and he would not waste the chance to share facts regarding his heritage. Your curiosity was palpable, much so that your eating etiquette was a bit sloppy. He half wondered if you could even taste the food considering how your focus was fully listening to every word coming out of his mouth.

 

“There are many abilities one can be born with when star-faring blood flows through their veins,” he counted them off with his fingers, “Some can navigate  _just_ by constellation mapping with no previous knowledge required. Others are able to  _adapt_ to the cold of space faster. Many can consume comets, asteroids,  _ **rocks**_ , and use them for sustenance. Rarely, a few have been able to regulate their own oxygen within their body to be able to  _breath_ in the vacuum of space.”

**Oh** , could your eyes get any more  _wider_  with wonder? He could see gears in your mind turning with questions, unanswered mysteries about _how was that even possible?_  To you, this may all seem absurd,  **impossible** even, and you half debated if the man across from you was simply yanking your chain. Judging by the seriousness in his voice, everything he said was  _true_.

 

“It’s a genetic code, then? The star-faring race. It gets passed down by generations? Or does it rely on the  _purity_ of the offspring's blood? Are - this seems  _illogical_. There is no oxygen in space. What chemical breaks down rocks?” you stopped when he let out a low chuckle.

 

“Good doctor, it is  **magic**.”

 

“I don’t believe that.”

 

“You do not believe in  _magic_?” Lotor’s grin grew wider in mild surprise.

 

“No, I  _believe_ in magic, but I don't  _believe_  there is not a scientific way to explain those gifts from the star-faring race. It has to be within your DNA,” you clarified, food completely gone by now, “I would rather learn all I  **can**  before relying on magic.”

 

His cosmic eyes spotted a leftover bit of grub on your lower lip, but he did well to reply back despite his distraction, “Allura has harnessed the ability to use  _Altean magic_. Is it such a bad thing to  _rely_ on a gift?”

 

“Of  _course_ not. By all means, use magic when you can, when you  _want_. But once that magic is gone, once you  ** _lose_** that ability, the only thing left to fall back on is your knowledge in  _other_ aspects,” you motioned to the archives with a wave of your hand, “Through understanding  **science**.”

 

To you, magic was a shortcut. You did not take  _shortcuts_. Not in life, not in learning. Lotor respected that and, well, he completely agreed. While it was useful to have magic as an ace up one's sleeve, keeping it as a main source of power was not smart  _nor_ wise. It was tactical to have open options available in any circumstance, even during times of  _peace_. Always be prepared and you will never have to worry about handling a bad decision again.

 

“Good doctor, would you perhaps indulge me in this  _science_ you learned,” his ears twitched when you let out an inquisitive hum, “I believe we can have a mutual benefit from teaching each other, no? I have not yet been to Earth, but I find myself  ** _fascinated_** with what you tell me. You can poke and prod my body to discover the exact answer you seek in regards to your star-faring questions. All I ask in return is the same opportunity to learn about  _your_ history in the medical field.”

 

Pure  **silence**. Up until now, you knew the two of you were simply tip-toeing around each other cautiously, trying to dance around what the others  _true_  intentions were. Perhaps you were just as  _sickeningly_ curious as he was? Perhaps the good doctor was primarily seen by your skill, not _who_  you are as a person? Perhaps Lotor wanted to peel away that layer and see what was underneath.

 

His thirst for knowledge, yearning to  _explore_ , was almost an unhealthy  **addiction** at this point.

 

The corner of your lip quirked up in challenge,  _baiting_ him, “I will put it under consideration.”

 

Emperor Lotor released a rumble of a chuckle deep from within his armored chest. How  _amusing_ , for both of you. He stood up and walked around to your side, one hand picking up the empty plate while you watched his  **every** movement. His sharp eyes peered down at you and the Galtean may have had a small power thrill  _surge_ through his veins at seeing you beneath him like this. 

 

A hand cautiously raised up to your chin, just like before, and you granted him this soft touch. You let him  _hold_ you.

 

Lotor then swiped his thumb over that dastardly bit of food smeared on the bottom of your lip. He released you, stuck his tongue out, and  **licked** the small taste you offered him so willingly. You could not help but bite your lip again after seeing his violet, wet tongue peek past his sharp teeth. The bastard was doing this on  **purpose**.  _You wish to challenge me? Very well, good doctor._  That itch in the back of his head cheered in victory over the small battle he won.

 

“Emperor Lotor?” before he walked away, you cleared your throat, “Thank you. For dinner.”

 

He placed a hand over his chest and gave a respectful bow, more than happy to show you he gladly accepted your gratitude. Especially now that he has you right where he  _wants_. His tongue still tingled at the small sample he stole from you, but  _stars_ , it was not nearly  **enough**. Lotor found a thrill toying with you at this close of a proximity and the fact that you no longer flinched away at his touch spoke volumes.

 

Emperor Lotor was  _getting_ to you. Or were you  ** _getting_**  to him?

 

“Until next time, dear doctor.”

 

* * *

 

The group was tense, arguing and fretting enough that you could cut the tension with a plastic knife. Emperor Lotor could not tamper the heated words being slung to and fro, most aiming at how his empire, his  _fractured_ empire, was at fault here. He knew that was wrong, knew this blame was not on his shoulders but rather an emotional reaction from Lance. It wasn’t until you stepped through the doors did the team fall deathly silent, eyes washed with guilt and worry and mounting  _frustration_.

 

You scanned over the group, analyzing the air of stress, and noticed  **one**  thing that made cold dread  _trickle_ down your spine.

 

“Where is Hunk?”

 

Shiro was the first to step up to you.

 

“Shiro,  _where_ is Hunk?”

 

“We don’t know,” the Black Paladin’s hands clenched at his side, “His lion returned without him. He was on his way to Balmera with some of the Empire’s escorts to restock necessities with our allies.”

 

“This is  _Lotor’s_ fault! Why didn’t you order some fighter jets to go along with him?”

 

“I assigned 20 fighters for his protection as well as the convoys travelling with him. There has to be something we are  _missing_ here. The Yellow Paladin may have been ambushed by another fleet.”

 

And thus, the arguing continued. Too much  _what-ifs_ , what  _could have_  been done. It was Shiro who suggested that he be escorted with protection, but it was not enough. Your old friend watched you stay silent in growing disbelief. Hunk was  _gone_? No, that could  **not** be. He was too strong to simply  _die_ like that. You snapped your attention to Shiro, full of  _determination_ and thinly concealed  _revulsion_ at the bickering group.

 

It was... _ **haunting**_.

 

“Shiro, take me to the Yellow Lion.”


	2. Second Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Lotor uses a bit more force to get the answers he seeks.

 

Emperor Lotor was not one to believe in miracles. There was  _always_ an explanation behind the door, behind the question, behind the truth. Rarely did he have an answer slip through his fingers. It was his nature to find out how it worked, how magic ties into this or that, how science caused a reaction to happen in a controlled setting.

 

Right now, as his eyes glued onto your smaller form standing before the shielded Yellow Lion, he wondered what  **logical** reasoning he will discover from this.

 

You were silently staring at the lion’s metallic face, calculating and weighing your words before this behemoth of a beast. Allura once said the lions  _chooses_ the Paladins. Through what criteria, you pondered? Based on strength? The  _soul_?  _Intellect_? Could the lions see something the naked eye can not? You narrowed your gaze once you could feel him  **judging** you right back.

 

If they determine warriors by the heart, then you could  _ **manipulate**_ them in your favor.

 

“I am  **not** your Paladin,” you spoke out loud, voice carrying throughout the hangar, “I would  _ **never**_ consider being a Paladin of Voltron.”

 

Yes, the Yellow Lion could hear the conviction in your tone. He could see your past, your present, even your future. It was how he decided who was worthy to control him, worthy to learn his secrets and protect the universe by his side.

 

_The Yellow Lion is caring and kind._

“But Hunk is. He  **needs** us right now and only  _you_ know where he is,” softer this time, almost pleading, “I know. I know he is scared. I know  _you_ are scared. You wouldn’t have came back unless it was to get help,  _our_ help.”

 

Lotor saw you take one step, then another, and another, until you were right at foot of the luminescent shield. Arms crossed, chin up, defiant yet dedicated posture. A show of dominance,  _gentle_ dominance, one that pulled the most wounded soldiers in for words of comfort. For words of home-sick promises and the tender care only a doctor can bestow on the injured body and soul.

 

_His pilot is one who puts the needs of others above their own._

“I am not your Paladin, but I  _know_ you want to rescue him,” the lion’s yellow head aimed to look down at you, letting you know he was listening intently, “I am going to save him and  _you_  are going to help me. You  ** _have_** to let me in.”

 

After a few silent, ominous seconds, the dome disintegrated and Lotor’s brow arched in curiosity, a million questions shooting through his mind at the new discovery. The Yellow Lion granted you access by a simple few cautiously placed words. The beast lowered its head, whether aware he was being taken advantage of nor not, then you approached him with a raised hand.  _I am not here to hurt you._ Slowly, you touched the feline’s jaw before turning to catch Lotor’s scrutinizing stare.

 

_Their heart must be mighty._

 

 _Good_ or  _bad_ , it must be  ** _mighty_**.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hunk is on Planet Horaple. There is a Galra station based there that intercepted his flight to the Coalition’s headquarters.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No, I mean,  ** _are you sure?”_**

 

You leaned back into your seat, Lotor to your left while Shiro sternly studied you from across the table. His arms were crossed, but his eyes, oh, you know  _that_ look. He was not doubting your skill or your information or even your dedication to join them on this mission. He was questioning whether or not you were  **ready** to fly into a war zone again. Not as a doctor, but this time, as a  _soldier_. As a  _Paladin_.

 

“What are our options?”

 

“Emperor Lotor can dispense his fleet,” Shiro nodded to the Galtean who, just like you, was trying to figure out the best course of action to take.

 

“The sheer number of my forces would set the Galra station on alert before we even exit warp drive,” Lotor explained calmly, “I can only assume whoever is Commander of this base is  _not_ an ally to the Empire.”

 

“Next.”

 

“Pidge and the rest of the us stage a rescue mission with Green. Her lion’s camouflage capabilities can give us an advantage on sneaking in to save Hunk.”

 

“Shiro, they managed to take down Hunk and those who were protecting his convoy delivery. They can very well do the same to you and those on board,” you shot down his idea, the risk much too great to lose not one, but all of the Paladins.

 

Your old friend sighed, “Next.”

 

“ **All** of us go,  **all**  five of the lions,” you saw his lips dip in a frown, “We can’t form Voltron, but we may not  _need_  to. Five is a small enough number for an infiltration mission. As far as our enemy knows, the Yellow Lion fled back to get help. That much is obvious to  _both_  sides. We need to rely on what we know rather than what we do not. They are  _expecting_ us, they know that we are siding with the Empire, and what is the  _strongest_ weapon in the universe?”

 

“Voltron. Although, is it  _wise_ to be sending all 5 lions gather at one location?” Lotor asked, seeing a small flaw in this plan.

 

“No. That is where  _you_ come in.”

 

The Emperor stared at you for further explanation, to which you leaned forward and placed your elbows on the table. There was always a risk when Voltron was involved, but the mech doesn't get the title “Defenders of the Universe” over nothing. Only  _certain_ people could control that power, could pilot it, so even if the plan takes a turn for the worse, the galaxy’s strongest weapon would be useless in the wrong hands.

 

“If we are captured, or  _killed_ , your fleet is to arrive and take the lions back before our enemy can make off with them,” your gaze flicked to Shiro’s dark, calculating ones, “If Sendak were to get wind that Voltron was repossessed by a different Galra fleet, I would not put it past him to try and take it for himself. Right now, Hunk is the  **priority**. We go in, get  _him_ , then leave. Nothing  _more_ , nothing  _less_.”

 

 _Silence_. If you listened closely, you could hear the gears in everyone’s head turning.

 

“I will discuss this with the team. Perhaps the Blades can offer assistance, but for now,” Shiro’s disapproving look told you he clearly did not like this plan, “We depart in 6 hours. You have that time to prepare, _if you are sure.”_

 

That one question. **Are you sure?**  Lotor noted how it made you look off to the side, not in shame, more to just mull over his words. Shiro pushed out of his chair then left the room, leaving you and the Emperor alone and contemplating over the recent events. The scenario was strategic, but it was  _not_  safe, though that was a given in any scenario. In any best laid plan, there was always something wrong that could happen.

 

“Emperor Lotor,” you turned to face him and he acknowledged you with a lifted chin, “I need a suit.”

 

“Follow me, good doctor.”

 

He led the way to the armory with you close by his side. Lotor was faintly curious to see how you would fare in battle, even with the Paladins at your side. Your eyes flit over the various arrays of weapons, not at all interested in any of them. Picking a suit was easy, but a weapon? Would you take a sword? A  _gun_? Lotor watched you dress yourself mechanically, like you have done this method  _over_ and  _over_  before. Although, considering your time in the army as a field medic, it made sense.

 

You took a deep breath then smoothed out the padding before fully facing your whole body to him, “I need a favor as well.”

 

His cosmic eyes held no shame while he looked you up and down, taking in how the Empire’s colors blended quite well with your body. There was a gleam of approval evident in his gaze. Yes, this armor would do well to protect you and Lotor was  **proud** you were wearing it. When his stare lingered on your face, waiting for you to continue, you took a deep breath to prepare your words.

 

“Typically, on the field, I have one or two soldiers to flank my sides in battle,” you explained, “I’m capable of incapacitating my enemy in emergencies, although right now, I  _know_ I can’t defend myself as well as the other Paladins, especially in unfamiliar territory.”

 

“I will assign the  **best** fighter in my disposal to assist you.”

 

You  _knew_ this was going to be a dangerous rescue mission and, although you would have preferred to handle this more subtly, keep your hands  _clean_ from this, sometimes force was necessary. Physical strength was not a skill you had developed over the years in space. If everything went according to plan, with keeping Lotor and his Empire as backup reinforcements, then Hunk will be saved.

 

“Thank you,” you bowed with a hand over your chest and his pupils dilated in sickening delight, “ _My Emperor._ ”

 

Lotor’s ears were tingling at how  _wonderful_ that title sounded, especially coming from you.

  
**My Emperor.**

 

* * *

 

 

The plan was set. Each of the Paladins were loaded up into their respective lions, except you. Last minute equipment check. Every medical necessity was stock was on your person, but you would not lie to yourself and say that this mission brought back  _terrible_  memories. Starting from preparation to weaponizing yourself for safety, it all reminded you of war, of death. More than not, of the killing you  _will_ do.

 

The echo of familiar footsteps caught your attention and you looked over your shoulder to see the Emperor, still fixed in his signature armor. He came alone, which had your brows rise up in question. While it was common for higher ups to see off their soldiers before departure, his posture did not seem at  _all_ like he was here to wish you good luck. When he stopped in front of you,  _towered_ over you, Lotor let a slow smirk spread on his smooth lips.

 

“Shall  **we** , good doctor?”

 

You gave him an incredulous, almost reprimanding look.

 

“You  _can’t_ come with me.”

 

Now, he arched a brow in challenge.  _Are you telling me, the Emperor, what I can and can not do?_

“Your Empire needs you should the mission turn sour,” you shook your head.

 

“It will not fail,” he spoke confidently, “not while I am by your side.”

 

You know what he was doing. Showing you his strength.  _I am the best fighter and only I trust myself to protect you. I will not let you go that easily._

 

And how could you  _possibly_ refute that? He was  **strong**. He took on Sendak. He took on  _Zarkon_. He fought the Empire to  _BE_ the Emperor. But what is an Empire without a King? The risk was high, but so was his skill with the sword. His cunning fighting tactics, his raw vitality, his  _dominant_ spirit. Your eyes scanned over his face, calm, ready, unyielding and calculating.

 

It would be  _foolhardy_ to deny such a skilled ally.

 

You took a deep breath. Lotor knew how to play his cards, just like how you used yours to manipulate the lion. No, not  _manipulate_. He gave you options and let you decide on your own which path to take. It was your decision, your  _choice_ , all he did was make you weigh the pros and cons to benefit you the best. Lotor motioned towards the lion with one hand out, ushering you to lead the way.

 

“You have my sword, good doctor.”

 

_Now, give me your allegiance._

* * *

 

 

“How’s that door coming, Pidge?”

 

“Just a few more seconds!”

 

“Let’s buy her some time, guys!”

 

Infiltration had been easy enough. Of course, the enemy was expecting the calvary, but they most certainly were  _not_ expecting the Yellow Lion to have a pilot already. The biggest surprise was that Emperor Lotor had joined the rescue mission as well. With Pidge’s tech hacking into the holding cell, it would only be a matter of time before Hunk was safely secured with the group.

 

“SHIRO! At your 7!”

 

“Doc, watch - “

 

The sharp sound of a stab slicing through metal interrupted the warning. You quickly looked over your shoulder to see Lotor elegantly poised with his blade pierced through the chest of a sentry unit. You gave one firm nod of thanks before shielding the Green Paladin from any incoming stray bullets. They were all fighters, except for you. You were support, you would always stay support because this was not the type of killing you were used to. This is why you chose the shield. To  _protect_.

 

“Got it!” Pidge shouted over the blasts of guns and you immediately backed into the room.

 

“Allura, with me!” you ordered knowing that she had the physical strength to carry Hunk, “Once I clear him, you grab him and we’ll protect you.”

 

One look inside the prison and you instantly spotted your target. He was unconscious, either from starvation or from whatever treatment he received while locked in for  _stars_ knows how long. Kneeling down, you checked his pulse, making sure there even WAS one. It was faint, but that was all the confirmation you needed before motioning the Princess over.

 

“Stay in the center, got it?”

 

Allura heaved the Paladin in her arms, taking care to keep him somewhat comfortable. Hunk was  _safe_. Well, relatively considering the array of bullets and swarms of soldiers trying to overpower you all  _right_ outside the door. He did not seem to have been majorly injured, which you thanked the  _stars_ for that. No  _excessive_ bleeding, just bruises here and there. His armor was chinked, hair mussed, but otherwise in a stable condition.

 

That  _ **worried**_  you.

 

It led you to believe one of two things. One, the commander of this station had meant to use him as bait. Or two, Hunk was tortured by... _other_  means. Other means not visible to the naked eye. You knew biological warfare was one of the  **most** brutal and successful ways to win a battle and it was not completely unheard of to capture living test subjects for experimentation.

 

But that was a problem to face when you were all in the safety of your lions. You all moved as one unit, each Paladin blocking and parrying and killing sentries left and right. Lotor was at your side, striking down any Galra soldier who  _dared_  confront him, confront  _you_ , the only one without a weapon. No, that is not true. He was  _your_ weapon and when you bashed your blunt shield against a foolish sentry who stepped too close to the Emperor, you were his  _shield_. The  **protector** and the  **fighter**.

 

A fitting duo, both determined and  _merciless_ in the face of death.

 

“Shiro, take Hunk. You’re the best pilot out of us,” the Princess handed the unconscious Hunk over, “Lead the way and we’ll cover you, commander.”

 

Each of them boarded their vessel, sans you and Lotor. There were still soldiers firing aimlessly at the lions and, when both of you were rushing to the jaw of your mechanical feline, you heard a loud, deafening  **BANG** resonate the field. A whizz of air skim a centimeter away from your nose. A  _mere_ centimeter. That was no ordinary bullet and such a close, devastating shot  _shocked_  you still for a split second.

 

“ _ **SNIPER**_!” Lotor shouted at you as his free hand yanked you closer to his body, now sprinting to the maw of the lion.

 

You have been close to death before, but you will  _never_  get used to its overly friendly comfort zone. It made your heart pound loudly in your ears, but it also put you on edge to instinctively protect yourself. Arm up, you angled the shield to cover you and Lotor’s head and chest, the most vital parts of the body should a bullet lodge itself in your skull or heart. The other Paladins were already lifting off and the longer you stayed, the chances of you two being overwhelmed became higher and  _higher_.

 

Lotor stepped into the lion’s jaw, his mind focused on getting in the safety of the cockpit, but you? You weren’t as fast as he was. Your eyes were scanning the field, trying to locate this sniper in the distance to calculate how close they were to firing again. The platform began closing before another  ** _BANG_** echoed over the sound of lasers, striking an ounce of potent fear in those hearing it.

 

Sniper assassins were the second most  _lethal_ bringers of death. You knew this, he knew this, but when the large caliber bullet effortlessly shattered through your shield and made it disintegrate all together, it was  _you_ who felt the cold finger of death  **stroke**  your mortal soul. The force of the shot made you stumble back as if a flaming meteor had just crashed into you and the air,  _fuck_ , where did it go?  ** _Breath_**. You  _needed_ to breath.

 

You let out a gasp as the burning, the  _searing_ , the  _ **ripping**_ , the  **intense** pain of hot needles continuously  _stabbing_ into you spread through your shoulder. Lotor’s ears picked up the noise of distress and, as he turned to your slumping form, his eyes widened in...no, not fear. Panic.  _Dread_. He could feel his stomach tighten uncomfortably at the view of  **copious** amount of blood flowing down the metal armor. Kneeling down, he quickly gathered you in his arms to assess how one split second put you in such  _critical danger_.

 

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth as tears began beading at the corner of your eyes, the scorching wound starting to trigger a panic attack, “Lo -  **augh** \- Lotor, the black one, give me the - ”

 

All his medical knowledge told him to apply pressure to the wound, but your words commanding him to _ **do as I say**_  outweighed his logic. Lotor was no doctor and when his hand emptied your bag to snatch that black syringe, he knew that your best chance of survival was, well, it relied on  _your_ demands. He uncapped the needle then looked down at your face, a sheen of sweat on your forehead and eyes dulled in  _agonizing_ torment.

 

That hole,  _stars_ , he could see right  **through** you, see the ripped skin and missing flesh. Pieces of your clavicle bone was visible, the ends now jutting out in a hollow,  _gushing_ mess and coating his suit with your sickening warm blood. The armor did  _nothing_ to protect you. Once that shield went down, so did you. What force of weaponry was strong enough to pierce through an ion shield  _and_ continue through your vulnerable body?

 

This was a testament of an  ** _expertly_** aimed shot.

 

“At the wound,” you grunted as clearly as you could, completely unaware that you had one hand gripping onto his sleeve for  _dear_ life, “Hurry, I - I’m going into s...sh…”

 

He did not need to be told twice. Lotor  _stabbed_ the needle in the torn flesh around the bullet hole then pressed the syringe down, emptying the unknown contents into your body. He trusted you to know how to heal yourself the same way you healed him. It was seconds turned minutes of silence that had his eyes scrutinizing  _every_ twitch of expression on your face. You had gone  **deathly** quiet and a trickle of horror dripped down his spine.

 

Lotor did not even question  _ **why**_ he felt like that.

 

Then, the reaction was instantaneous.  _Miraculous_. A low groan of relief escaped your lips like someone had placed a cool towel over your burning forehead. Your heart calmed, breathing evened out, and life was slowly coming back into your eyes. His own couldn’t believe how such a gaping wound, still fresh and  _open_ , was not pulling raw  **screams** of agony out of you.

 

“Doctor?” Lotor’s voice was uncharacteristically worried, as if he had bitten more than he can chew, “Doctor, are you -  _how_ did you?”

 

You shook your head at him _. Later. Now is not the time nor the place._ The serum would only work for a short amount of time and you knew if you weren’t able to find proper aid soon, then you’ll be right back at writhing in anguish, wishing for  **death** to hurry up and relieve you of your misery. The Emperor cautiously rose to his feet, careful with bringing you up with him, but oh, his  _eyes_.

 

He could not stop  _staring_ at you like a zombie was resurrected before him. Lotor was not scared, he was shocked that he had no answer to how you were still alive. How you were still  _breathing_. How you were still piloting without so much as a flinch in your step when he could see through your shoulder. Were you even human? No human could  _survive_ that shot. So, what sorcery did you keep hidden in that brain of yours?

 

It made him positively  **angry**.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hunk will make a  _full_ recovery. He’s not awake yet, but just know he is going to be okay.”

 

A sigh of relief waved through the entire group. Well,  _almost_ the entire group. Lotor was off to the side, arms crossed and stone faced for the past few hours. When the Yellow Lion had landed in the docking bay, you mechanically walked down the ramp and towards the hospital wing. Not a  _single_ word out of you. He had followed closely, mind racing with questions and concerns about the silent shell of a doctor who finally collapsed in a weak heap halfway there. Needless to say, he  **hated** having questions left unanswered. Truth being withheld from him and, with you unconscious, he was left in the dark of his thoughts.

 

“And the doctor?” the Emperor asked, tone  _cold_ and to the point.

 

Shiro spared a quick glance at the group before keeping his gaze on Lotor, “Would it be okay if I were to have a word with you?”

 

_In private._

He gave no qualms and followed the Black Paladin to the front of your assigned recovery room. Lotor had no doubt his medical officers could heal Hunk, heal humans, but the second Shiro pulled him aside, he had a small uncertainty flit across his mind when it came to healing  _you_. He saw the damage with his own two eyes. For a few muted moments, they stared at each other, assessing their expressions for any clue of the upcoming conversation.

 

“What happened? You guys arrived later than we did.”

 

“A sniper had pinned us down,” Lotor explained as he remembered little flashes of the incident, “We were in the clear, or at least, we  _should_ have been. The doctor’s ion shield went out when the sniper fired.”

 

“And then?”

 

Lotor looked off to the side to recollect his thoughts, “I administered a syringe to the doctor’s wound. It was black.”

 

 _That_ was the  **magic** word. Shiro took in a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, clearly perturbed by this new bit of information. There was a disturbing shadow behind his eyes and it was Lotor’s unflinching stare that made the commander cross his arms in firm finality. Then,  _there_ , he saw  **it**. The Black Paladin was  **pissed**.  _Furious_. Disappointed, but not at  _Lotor_.

 

At  _ **you**_.

 

“That explains it,” he shook his head, a hand running through his dual colored hair, “You can go in. I’ll be with Hunk until he wakes. Doc should be conscious by now.”

 

Without another word, Shiro turned away from Lotor and continued true to his word. Something about his composure was odd and the Emperor narrowed his lids in suspicion. He was off. Was the good doctor not his  _close_ friend? With such miraculous news that a successful recovery was well on the way, why did the Paladin seem distant?  _Purposely_ so? Lotor was missing a vital piece to this puzzle, but he has a hint at what it was.

 

He stored those thoughts for later when his own stomach stirred in annoying agitation. Yes, he was  _still_ upset at you for not telling him about this rare drug of yours. As he knocked softly, he heard a soft confirmation, then stepped in once the door granted him access. Already, you were up with your bare back greeting his eyes. He catalogued  _all_ he could from this moment, all the scars, the  _blemishes_ , the bumps and  _bruises_ , the  _dip_ of your spine, the  _smooth_  curves, the tone of your skin blending with the light. The most important thing he noticed was that wound, the one that uprooted feelings of  **panic** through his veins, it was  _completely_ gone.

 

There was _no way_ , even by Galra medical advancements, you should already be healed.

 

The Emperor frowned when you slipped a shirt over yourself, the Galra casual uniform, then watched you continue dressing without an ounce of shame, “Doctor.”

 

“Emperor Lotor,” you responded, zipping up your pants before turning to fully face him, “What can I help you with?”

 

Oh, he did  _not_ like that. You did not get to talk to him like he was a returning patient asking for a prescription refill. Lotor kept his facade strict, but your sharp eyes noticed the slightest change in his composure. His lips were more set in a defined line. Yes, you are well aware of his resting evil face, but this? No, this was something else, and you could only assume he, too, was  _stewing_ in anger at your recent near-death experience.

 

He should have asked for an explanation about that serum. He  _should_ have asked how something like that could possibly heal you at a frighteningly accelerated rate. Was it magic? Was it  _science_? He should have asked if you had more of it. He should have wanted to experiment with it, discover its secrets like he would discover every little thing about you.

 

And yet, something else  _entirely_ had been hovering over him this whole time.

 

**“Did you take that bullet for me?”**

 

That question made you raise your brow just a smidge, eyes widening in  _genuine_ surprise. Lotor’s tone was not one of doting scolding or even fleeting curiosity. In fact, there was  **no**  tone, and that alone had your unconsciously hide your twitching fingers behind your back. A defense mechanism you never grew out of whenever you were not sure how to  _explain_ something. _Be careful with what you say. Be professional._

 

“No,” your answer was firm, yet with how quickly you replied, he saw that you were hesitant.

 

Lotor took a step closer, peering down at you in challenge.  _Try again._

“I,” you attempted to keep your gaze locked with his, but he was too intense, too scrutinizing, and you gruffly turned away, “I don’t remember.”

 

What was the truth? Were you  _lying_ to him? Or did you  _honestly_  not remember in the rush of adrenaline? Lotor hated not having answers. It frustrated him like no other and his lips twitched in half a snarl, unhappy with your reply. You were too calm on the outside, just like him, but inwardly you were slowly realizing the implications of his question. Did you  **sacrifice**  your safety for him? Consciously or... _unconsciously_?

 

“I do  _not_ like repeating myself.”

 

Now, it was your turn to scowl, “Neither do I.”

 

Another step forward and you backed against the wall, fully caged even though there was a  _clear_  escape route visible.

 

“ ** _Look_**  at me.”

 

Your tinted orbs, both defiant and unsure, flicked up to his face.  _This_ , Lotor anticipated without a doubt. He was trying to  _intimidate_ you, trying to  _pressure_ you into telling him the truth, whether you knew it or not. He was not here to play games. He was here to be in  ** _control_**. You  _toyed_ with him. Perhaps you were aware, perhaps not, but either way, you set off a series of emotions he had buried long before deciding to dissect you body, mind, and soul.

 

Lotor was teetering  _too_ close to the edge and you had nearly shoved him down that insufferable pit.

 

His voice dropped a pitch, “Are you ready to repay me for that favor?”

 

 **This** was the only time he saw you open with your doubtful emotions. A rare opportunity that did not often present itself unless he was being more  _forceful_ , more  _pursuing_ , than usual. Your breath hitched under the dull hum of the ship’s engine, a sign that he had, indeed, set you on  _edge_. You were such a  _good_  doctor, an  _honorable_ doctor to those you were loyal to, especially to him. Lotor knew  _where_ to dig his claws, how to step between your moral lines.

 

If you  **truly** do not remember taking the bullet for him, then he will know the  _truth_ soon enough.

 

“Yes, what is - “

 

Lotor’s hands quickly and  **roughly** gripped your hips before you could even finish your question. His nails poking into your clothes pushed you up, completely lifting you off the floor while he  _rutted_ himself improperly against you. This...this  _instantly_ brought up those warning signs. Your hands immediately clutched his shoulders, not so much for balance, but to push him away if he tried any more surprises. Judging by how solid he stood while effortlessly pinning you against a rock and a hard place, you realized your hands could not do much to help in your situation.

 

 _There_. Lotor saw it. A flash of vulnerable  **fear**. Small, miniscule, hiding behind the belief that Emperor Lotor was a  _professional_. He has a certain nobility he would not  _dare_ discard to find the truth behind his question. Lotor, the beguiling  _diplomat_ , the one leading peace to spread throughout the universe, would  _never_ overstep your comfort for the sake of science. For the sake of an  _answer_. Would he? Would you  _let_ him?

 

Oh, he was gazing into your depths so vehemently, so deeply, he could see all those doubts about him grow. And you? Your hands, they were  _burning_.

 

They  **hurt**.

 

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before Lotor meshed his lips with yours in an unprecedented act of...passion? No. You tasted  _nothing_ , felt nothing but  **fire** skimming over your lips. It  _ **stung**_ to be kissed. Not enough to make you thrash against him, but the oppressive pressure behind his lips made you...quiver. Tremble slightly under the way his dominating tongue  _forcefully_ slipped through your teeth. Unyielding, he was always so  ** _unyielding_** , so ready to take when you willingly opened an inch of yourself for him.

 

He felt a  _sickening_ sort of pleasure from it.

 

Both of you slid your eyes closed. You, moreso to  _endure_ this onslaught while he searched for his answer. This did  **not** feel right. This was not a kiss you know of, a kiss of affection, of intimacy. Lotor made  _sure_ of that. This was not for  _your_ pleasure. He was on a mission to taste the fresh rush of emotions overwhelming your little body. The devilish slick muscle found no resistance, no playful fighting from your end, so he delved deeper.  _Literally_ sticking his tongue down your throat and nearly making you  **choke**.

 

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. Not by his choice, no, but you had  _forcefully_ turned your head to the side, breaking the lip lock with a string of saliva connecting you both together. Lotor narrowed his eyes then licked his lips, severing the tie while you kept avoiding his beckoning gaze. He found what he was looking for and, judging by the small, breathless pants escaping your mouth, you knew you lost. It was  **over**.

 

You did not push him away.  _That_ already told him one thing. And yet, when his wet, purple tongue squirmed its way down your throat, he had expected you to  **bite** him. You did no such thing. Oh, he was confusing you  _so_ damn well. Leaving you hanging with uncertain questions of your own about Emperor Lotor. However, the loudest question was _what happens now?_

 

Lotor relinquished his hold on you suddenly, weak legs stabilizing you while the rest of your body leaned on the wall for support. He spared you a single,  **furious** _glare_ before turning towards the door. Not a  _single_ word, but that heated look told you everything. He  _ **knew**_ your true feelings for him, no matter how well you tried to suppress them under your disinterested facade. Your role as a  _good_ doctor.

 

“Do not  ** _ever_** sacrifice yourself for me again.”

 

Emperor Lotor left and you slumped down in defeat,  _scowling_ at his retreating form.


	3. Third Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Lotor leaves his mark on the Medic!Reader, both physically and mentally.

“You said you would never use it again.”

“I  _know_  what I said, Shiro.”

The Black Paladin sighed heavily, one arm coming up to rub the forming tension in his neck. _Patience yields focus._  He had to remember that, especially now with you curled up against his chest while his other arm secured you flushed to his body. Shiro knew you wouldn’t have used that drug unless it was  _absolutely_ critical for your survival. Still, it didn't mean he had to like the repercussions of your actions.

You were in pain, like there was an open wound left untreated, but it was rotting from the inside. It wasn't contained just at your shoulder, either. It was all over. Although, you would rather endure this than, well, be dead with a gaping, unsightly hole through your body. Another wave, another shudder, another moment of your nails digging in his shirt. You panted through gritted teeth, angry both at yourself and your, dare you say, lapse of judgement. And being snippy at your friend? He didn’t deserve it when he was just trying to help you.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” your voice was strained, but he could hear the honesty laced in it.

Shiro wrapped both his arms around you now, keeping you close and making you hear his strong, beating heart, “Just get better soon. We’ll figure something out afterwards, alright?”

He was always so positive about this sort of thing. Encouraging and optimistic even in the most grim of situations, which was something you respected about him. While you tended to keep yourself grounded with pessimistic what-ifs, Shiro is the other side of the coin. What if there is a solution? What if I can help you? What if it works? Sometimes, you saw him as a fool. Sometimes, he was too damn good for this life the both of you were stuck in.

“Were you scared?”

Your mind flashed back to that moment. The open field, the shield shattering, the bullet, the hot pain. Truly, you don't remember if you did take the bullet for him. The only thing you do remember was seeing something much more frightening than death that day. It was the way Lotor was looking down at you with panic and dread and horror swimming behind his cosmic eyes. Maybe that was why you picked the black one, the one that would 100% ensure your survival, because he showed you something you haven’t felt in a very long, very long time.

Shiro was disappointed in you for being reckless. Lotor was furious at you because, for once since meeting you in that cell, he did not have  **control** of himself.

You understood that all  _too_ well.

“Yeah,” you closed your eyes, once again trying to attempt to get some rest, “Yeah, he - I was.”

* * *

 

Oriande was a failure. A dead end for his grand plan, but Lotor had plans fall of the tracks before. He could always alter his methods, so to speak. Change a few things here or there to help him achieve his goal. Now, he simply needed to come up with a secondary scenario, somewhere he can control every little aspect and guarantee the best results. He needed the Princess still, needed Voltron, for more reasons than one.

Lotor did not like that. He did not like heavily relying on others.

A mutual partnership, yes, he can understand. More often than not, he could usually find an alternate path, but this? In order for his plan to work, he desperately needed the knowledge from Oriande. And it was given to  _Allura_. Lotor would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bitter about that fact. Ten thousand years alive, struggling and learning all he could, only to have the key piece snatched right from under him.

Nonetheless, she knew how important it was to gain unlimited quintessence and if he had to share his plans to achieving said goal, then so be it.

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted him of an oncoming presence. Judging just by the pace, he could tell it was you. Nebulous eyes snapped to your direction, the throne room quite big and open when it was empty of all sentries and personnel. Lotor was watching your every movement, every poise, even the way you stopped a mere few feet away from his seat. Your expression, though, it was not as... _guarded_ as it usually was. It almost seemed guilty. Interesting.

“Emperor Lotor,” you announced, voice wavering in the slightest, “I would like to...to formally apologize for my rash actions.”

He leaned on one elbow, chin resting on his knuckles. A sign for you to continue, a sign that he was listening  _intently_.

“It was a reckless and unnecessary risk.”

Whether you did it to protect him or not mattered very little right now. The point was you weren’t thinking clearly in the face of death. If you had died, his life would have been in jeopardy. The other Paladin’s lives would have been in jeopardy trying to save him. Your sacrifice, intended or not, would have ruined their plan and sabotaged the entire mission. It left him with no control over the situation. 

“It won’t happen in the future,” shuffling in your pocket, you pulled out a black vile, “I offer you this as a promise to my word.”

Lotor rose to his feet and in three graceful steps, he stood in front of you with squared shoulders. A show of power, something you were all too familiar with, especially after the forceful kiss. Instead of lowering your head and yielding to him, you kept your gaze locked with his unreadable one. You were not being defiant, you were showing him that you learned. Lotor was always quiet, calculating, but it was not something that intimidated you. 

Sometimes, silence was a good thing.

“See to it that you do  _ **not**_ do it again,” he didn’t exactly say you were forgiven, but at this point, that was enough for you.

His open hand came up and you placed the vile in the center of his palm. Switching his attention to the black liquid swirling inside, he pocketed the concoction then held his elbow out for you to take. A little cautiously, you slid your arm to lock with Lotor’s, accepting his offer while he began leading you away from the throne room. It wasn’t until you heard the clashing of weapons and pained grunts did you realize exactly where he was guiding you.

“Vrepit sa!”

Immediately, upon entering the training room, all the soldiers within straightened up and saluted Emperor Lotor. The Galtean man nodded firmly in acknowledgement then motioned for everyone to exit. They obeyed, giving each other pats on the back for a training session well done then rearranged their weapons on the rack before shuffling out in an orderly fashion.

“You say you were in the military, yes?” you nodded in confirmation, “What training did they teach you?”

Oh, so  _that_ was what this is all about.

“Very little. As medic, supplies were more important than heavy artillery. I know how to use a pistol and a shield.”

“ _Somewhat_ ,” he added as an afterthought, “From what I witnessed on the field, your shield-handling skills were somewhat efficient.”

Part of you wanted to take offense to his little quip, part of you knew he was right.

“Yes. I know how to protect myself, but I hadn’t expected an expert sniper to break through an ion shield like it was made of wet paper.”

A tsk, a shake of his head, “The Galra snipers are not trained to instantly kill, but to kill as many as possible. Normally, this means they aim for the lower body to incapacitate their foe. That way, more targets will flock to a wounded ally.”

_How...ruthless,_  you thought.

“I have taken the time to study the weapon shipments within the Empire, though none of what I have seen are capable enough to pierce through a shield so effortlessly,” Lotor explained with his hand hovering over his mouth, “This leads me to believe either the sniper rifle was altered illegally, obtained outside of the Empire, or the shooter is not part of the Galra Empire.”

His expression changed then. Not hardened like before, not blank and hiding under a facade. Lotor placed his large hand on your shoulder where you were hit then stared deeply into your eyes. He was unsure of his answer and you could tell he despised being in such a state, especially when lives were at stake.  _Especially_ when he could save others if only he knew which door to pick.

“Either way, a fatality is a  **fatality**. Such a risk can not happen again,” he gently squeezed, eyes trying to convey how serious this turn of events could have ended, “You were right to protect both of our heads and I thank you for your precaution, but it mattered not and the sniper knew this,  _knew_ they had an advantage. Therefore, it is time to properly armor you with the right equipment as well as...train you.”

“But what’s stronger than an ion shield?”

“I am glad you asked,” he reached under his waist cape and pulled out what looked to be a sleeve of sorts.

Your eyes squinted at the fabric, finding it oddly familiar for some reason.

“You once gave me a back brace made of Rhodyron,” gently, he slipped the sleeve over your dominant arm, “I requested a shipment of the precious mineral from Olkari. Since you were otherwise...predisposed with healing, I took it upon myself to create this.”

A holographic screen popped up from the inside of your wrist and, after a few taps from Lotor’s fingers, a large dark shield materialized before your very eyes. It was sleek, sharp, and quite lethal looking with a hue of purple radiating around the edges. From behind, the opacity was thin, and you could practically see through it without a problem.

“You invented this?”

The Emperor conveniently tapped the shield, testing its firmness while avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, I did. It is a prototype, but I have personally tested it on various weapons that could otherwise break through an ion barrier.”

No. That was not the question you meant to ask and he bloody well knew it. You invented this  _ **for me?**_  Although, you also knew he wouldn't give you a straight answer, a definitive answer, you still wanted to know what was going through his mind. Best not take his generosity for granted or, well, even question it in the first place. Lotor moved to stand besides you and, with a twist of his wrist, also materialized a shield of his own.

“You are to keep this sleeve on you at  _all times_. It will save your life more than once,” the Emperor ordered, “Now, follow my stance. The Galra’s way of battle do not often incorporate shields in close combat. However, be that as it may, I shall guide you in a lost art not many know of in this day and age. The Altean defense strategy.”

If you are to fight by my side, you  ** _must_** know how to protect.

* * *

 

“Too hard...”

A soft chuckle and Lotor’s hands lightened the pressure, making you relax under his ministrations, “My apologies. I tend to forget how fragile humans are.”

You almost wanted to mutter back that fragility and durability are two different things all together, but instead kept your mouth shut then stuffed your head back into the pillow. The Emperor’s training regime was not suited for humans. In fact, it was more suited for him and him  _alone_ , though you can understand why he pushed you so hard until you collapsed to your knees in shaking exhaustion.

Now, here you two were in his private quarters. You were naked and laying on your front while he massaged your sore, tender muscles screaming in protest. Lotor had  _insisted_ he do this for you as a reward for a job well done, yet those kneading thumbs only left uncomfortable, hot trails over your skin. No, that wasn’t right. They weren’t uncomfortable. They felt good,  _great_ , in fact. You were uncomfortable in the mind because all of this? All that he was doing?

It was  _caring_.

Lotor took notice of your muscles tensing up and, knowing it would only make you ache more if you resisted, leaned lower close to your ears, “Darling,  _please_ , I need you to relax.”

You were a doctor. Of course you knew you needed to relax, but needing and actually doing it while laying weak and vulnerable in the Emperor’s chambers did not exactly soothe your nerves. Even if his sheets smelled faintly of lavender, even if the passing stars and dimmed lights set a calm mood, even with his baritone whisper lulling you gently, you could not switch your discomfort so easily. Well, not willfully, anyways.

“Talk to me,” your fingers twitched a particularly rough knot he pressed over, “It’ll help.”

You did not mind silence, but in this setting? Talking about anything would serve as a good distraction.

Lotor leaned back once more, taking his original position, “Very well. Tell me about the medicine. How did you come across such a concoction?”

It should be illegal for his hands to be as pliable and strong like this, “I created it some time ago... _aah_. It’s called Witigue.”

He raised a silver brow at that name, making sure to store it in his mind for later. His silence encouraged you to continue as his hands drifted lower, now at the smooth curve of your back, right at your hips. He would be lying if he said your skin did not feel  _oh so_ lovely on his fingers. Yes, he had a duty to fulfill, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a body like yours underneath him.

“You discovered this on your home planet? On Earth, I presume?”

“Actually, no, I discovered it on Arus,” your toes curled, his touch on your feet tickling a bit, “I may have been born on Earth, but it isn’t home. Not to me.”

Your eyes were fluttering as a yawn escaped your lips. In all truth, you haven’t been this comfortable in both body and mind in a very long time. Every inch of your being was dozing off at the potential restful sleep just waiting around the corner. If it wasn't for Lotor shifting lower on the bed as his hands grabbed your thigh muscles, squeezing and  _palming_ you, then you very may well have knocked out then and there.

“Curious,” he switched to your other leg, taking his sweet, sweet time caressing, “Do you plan on returning after the war?”

“No, absolutely  ** _not_**.”

The detachment in your tone was common, but for a different reason. You did not seek to go back to your planet, even though the other human Paladins would give  _anything_ to see their families and friends again. Lotor hummed in thought, rubbing behind your knee to ease the joints from locking up. He noticed you had a small limp during training on this leg in particular.

“I find it a fortunate coincidence that you and the Paladins are from the same world,” Lotor grinned at the luck of it all, “And yet, am I wrong to assume the familiarity they bring is not something you seek?”

“Just because we were born on the same planet, doesn’t mean I have to get along with them. A shared history is not something I’m interested in when it comes to finding a home.”

A shared  _future_ is more important. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you plan on going back home after the war?” you turned your head to the side, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “Wherever your home is?”

Instead of answering back immediately, Lotor gently skimmed his fingers over the scar on your shoulder blade in dull fascination. Has he thought about finding a home before? Of course, but in the middle of this war, it was far out of reach. Not a top priority. He had choices, yes, but none suited his situation now. Snapping out of his thoughts, the Emperor smoothed his hand up and down your spine.

“We shall see after peace has claimed the universe.”

When he moved lower to your calves again, his nose picked up a scent, a rather potent scent coming from your crotch. 

**Arousal**.

And,  _oh_ , his mind was already fascinated with you, already interested in what he could do to break you down and stitch the pieces back together. Since the very beginning, Lotor was piqued, but now that he was this close,  _so_ close that he could catch the faintest whiff of your excitement, his body began to stir with his itching desires. He let his mind wander to exactly how lustful you would act in the deep throes of passion.

“I... _mm_ …” your cheeks were dusted with the slightest tint of pink, most likely from being so blissfully relaxed, “I should…”

“Stay,” he gently whispered, ushered, gliding his palms up the length of your body before resting on your shoulders, “I will allow it. You may rest here tonight if you wish it.”

Lotor could only imagine the answer going through your mind and, well, he knew he was tip toeing a little further into your comfort zone more than usual. Logically, you weren’t strong enough to walk all the way across the ship to your room. So, why not rest here? The Emperor kneeled over you, long wisps of his silky hair brushing against your bareness as soft pads of his thumbs soothed you. Slowly, almost drunk with sleep, you let out a low hum of contentment when his handsome face came into view.

It was almost unfair how he did not seem tired at all. The gentle luminescence of his yellow sclera only made his pupils seem more vibrant in the dark room. There was no ill intent from what you could see, only genuine curiosity as he waited in anticipation for your answer. His eyes flicked to your lips, remembering the first time he tasted them and the force behind the kiss. There was no passion that time, not from him and certainly not from you, though if he were given a chance to do so now, Lotor would  _gladly_ show you what his silver tongue could truly do.

“May I  **kiss** you, my dear?”

An out of the blue question that conveyed his restrained wants and needs. A promise that this time, in the privacy of his quarters where both of you were sharing a comfortable moment of physical vulnerability, he would be gentle. Intimate. Loving like only the best a partner could possibly be. Lotor slowly blinked at you and held back the urge to nuzzle the curve of your ear.  _Not yet._ You  **have** to permit him.

“Yes, my Emperor.”

Oh, you  _ **cheeky**_ thing.

At first, you hesitated when he leaned closer to your face, completely shadowing you in darkness so all you could see were his pair of glowing eyes. Lotor could sense your sliver of doubt, but once he calmly meshed his soft lips against yours, it slowly faded away. Just like he promised, it was caring, romantic, full of tenderness and close trust the both of you only revealed in moments like these.

And you responded in kind, eyes closing and not quite realizing how his plump lips fanned something flickering in your chest. You applied a bit more pressure, mouth moving with his in a slow dance as you both tried to familiarize yourselves with each other. Lotor’s warm and wet tongue slipped through to lick at the seam of your mouth, silently asking for permission.

_I will be softer this time. Let me **show** you. Let me in._

Parting slightly, he gleefully took in a deep breath and entered cautiously so he could taste every crevice of your cavern. You were...shy? No. Not shy, just waiting to see what he would do. Lotor almost smiled at your wariness. Instead of shoving his tongue deep down your throat, he let the tip gently poke you, almost as if asking to come out and play. _Just a little bit?_

He tasted like...fresh mint. A little sweet, too.

You granted him a small reprieve, pressing your tongue with his and letting him twist around you in a playful lick. A pleased groan rumbled from the Emperor’s chest while his hands mapped over your body once more, skimming just on the side of your rib cage with feather-like touches. It was you who broke the lip-lock first, needing to breath much to his amused grin.

“Beautiful...”

But no, he did not stop there. His palm trailed lower, now lovingly grasping your hips as a distraction so he could plant a kiss on your cheek. Lotor made his way up to drag his lips along your jaw, your earlobe, then sensually lick the rim of your ear. A shaky quiet gasp confirmed that you liked that, you liked that  _a lot_ , and he was a man who loved to please in bed. His tongue skimmed over every ridge of your ear before delving deeper, wanting to pull another delicious sound from you.

“Lotor…”

Pulling back, he nipped your earlobe as punishment.

“Ah, Emperor... **Emperor** Lotor.”

He squeezed your love handles, pants starting to feel constricting the more he tasted, the more he  _touched_. Your nails dug into his silken sheets, but that did not hinder him from continuing his lustful ministrations. Lotor’s journey led him to the open curve of your neck. Oh, you were so warm, you smelled  _so_  good, and he wasn't quite aware of how many deep breaths he was taking in of your scent.

A hand came up to reach for his head, to lightly grasp onto his locks and let him know you definitely wanted  _more_ than a kiss. Lotor greedily lapped at your skin as if trying to get drunk off your taste alone. It wasn’t until you moaned and pressed his face insistently into your flesh did his fangs start scratching what you were freely offering him. He wanted to mark you up wherever his mouth could reach. Anywhere and  _everywhere_.

But first, right  **here**.

“A- _ **ah**_ …!”

Closing his mouth, he could feel your skin give way to his hungry teeth in a firm, unrelenting bite. His jaw locked, your body squirming at the sting as he caged you completely from above, tongue tasting a warm drop of your succulent blood. You mentally cursed while enduring the pain of pierced skin, but you would be lying if you said this? This  _one_ bite? The way he held onto you carefully, letting you know he was here for  _you_? It felt...reassuring in a new way. An safe way. A  **loving** way.

That thought shocked you.

“W...wait…” your voice was barely a whisper, but just enough for him to hear.

Lotor released his hold and gave you one more lick to reaffirm his claim on your neck, “ _Mm_...You taste divine, my dear.”

He peppered kisses over your shoulder, lower to your back, and even lower still, “No, Lo-Emperor Lotor,  **wait**.”

Now,  _now_ he stiffened. Something was wrong. Was it something he did? Your voice, it was tinged with fear, but not the same that he was purposely pulling from you. Lotor raised his head to study your face, which he noticed you hiding in the pillow. No, this will not do. If there was something going on, something he did, something you did not want, he needed to know  **now**.

He brought a hand up to gently comb through your hair as he nudged your ear with his nose, “Tell me.”

You didn’t want to say. You didn't want to tell him the truth of how this thing between you two was teetering between lines you actively worked so hard to stay clear from after all this time. Control was slipping from your grasp and if you weren’t careful, weren’t always cautious, someone was bound to accidentally get hurt. As much time as you spent with him, you felt as if there was one important connection missing.

There was not enough  **trust**.

“I’m tired,” it was true, but not the answer he was seeking, and you both knew this.

Lotor eased off you completely, now laying on his side of the bed and facing your back. He shouldn’t exhaust you any further, this he knew. Recovery would only be stunted if he had continued, though that tone in your answer only made him want to ask more questions. Maybe he didn’t read the situation as well as he thought. 

“...I’m not ready,” you whispered a little louder, “Not yet.”

That was...vague. Too vague for him to understand completely or even deduce on his own what you truly meant. An age-old instinct to be near you, comfort you in this time of uncertainty, tugged at his heartstrings. Lotor has had lovers in the past reject him, but this? It wasn’t a  _rejection_. It was, like it has always been with you, a secret you weren’t willing to share. He respects that.

Emperor Lotor is, if anything, a gentleman. Carefully, he lifted the comforter to cover your nude form, noticing how you were avoiding making eye contact with him.

Oh, he scared you  _that_ much? 

“ _Shh_ , my dear,” he cooed, keeping his hands off of your body, “I am here for you.”

A pause, a thought flashing through his mind.

“Unless...would it bring you comfort if I were to give you time alone?”

“...No,” you answered, “Stay. I  **want** you to stay.”

Now, this reaction? He was not expecting. The turn of events was a new response from you. Not the sex, no. The exposed vulnerability. Lotor blinked slowly as if it would help him understand you better. Maybe mental comfort was not what you needed now. Maybe touching you intimately was too much for you. Either way, he found that he wanted to learn from you, somehow, even if he had to lay a foot away from you all night.

Oddly enough, he was reminded of the time where you stayed by his side while he was recovering.

You reached one hand behind you blindly and sought his arm, nebulous eyes watching your every movement. He let you grasp his wrist and pull it over your waist in a loose, yet strong, hold. You didn’t need to ask him, he  _knew_ what you wanted. You wanted a hug and part of him was deeply touched you would trust him enough to embrace you like so. Lotor took a deep, calm breath, a way to make your heart beat in sync with his.

“Sleep now, darling. I will not leave you.”

_I **finally** have you in my arms, after all._


	4. Fourth Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Lotor finally achieves his life-long goal.

Allura was never one for sitting idly when there was work to be done. She supposed that was another thing she had in common with Lotor. With their advancements on the Sincline ships thanks to her knowledge gained from Oriande, it would only be a matter of time before her -  _their_ goal of peace can be achieved. So, why then, was she here of all places?

“Hm,” you removed the stethoscope from her back then unplugged them from your ears, “When was the last time you had a good night's rest?”

“Oh, I...A few days ago, just after we planned to bring in leaders from neighboring planets for a diplomatic - “ she paused, noticing you staring unblinkingly and rather sternly at her, “Ah, yes, well, I  _suppose_ it has been quite some time.”

“You may feel fine, Allura, but the overexertion is taking a bigger toll on you than you think.” Arms crossed, you glanced down at your screen, “The reason why you fainted earlier could be due to stress.”  
  
“Doctor, I appreciate your concern, but I’m  _fine_ , really. Coran has been making sure I eat my meals and Lotor even suggested I get myself checked out. That’s why I am here. I assure you, I’ve never felt better.”

Silence. If there was one thing she found unnerving, it was that you were always the quiet, unflinching type. Your eyes never left hers, but Allura stood firm and smiled softly to show that, really, this was unnecessary. Alteans and humans have different bodies and tolerance levels for stress, so the Princess was unsure why you were intent on keeping her here any longer when she could be helping Lotor.

“Your blood pressure is a little high and I noticed an odd heart palpitation during the examination. Allura, both of these combined can be the cause of your fainting spell. Are you aware of any heart conditions or possible illnesses that would otherwise affect your daily activities?”

She was an alchemist. These body issues are something she doesn’t understand. She opened her mouth to answer, but found that she didn’t actually have one.

“How long has this been going on? The stress.”

Allura shook her head, knowing that denying won’t help, “Aren’t we all stressed from this war? I must do everything I can to help, surely you understand.”

“I  _do_ understand - “

Part of her really doubted that and much of that doubt came from her distrust in you.

“-but Allura, you are more helpful alive than stuck in a coma.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been with you since Shiro located me. I have made sure you’re all in top fighting form, both in body  _and_ mind,” a pause as you gathered your thoughts carefully, “I know of your sacrifices, your  **many** sacrifices, and as a doctor, I would like to make sure you are fine mentally. It may not be obvious, but mental health can have direct consequences on the body if left untreated over a long period of time.”

“Doctor, I assure you, I am not mentally ill,” a tone of finality, of  _we will speak of this no more._

Allura shifted off the table to fully stand, the conversation making her slightly uncomfortable. She was a PRINCESS. She was fine, she knows her limits, why weren’t you listening to her? No matter, there were more important things to do at hand. She was not crazy or whatever you were hinting at. She was  ** _NOT_**. She was just...tired. Yes. She needed rest.

You thought otherwise based on your expertise, but there was nothing you could do to make her see that maybe, just maybe, the life and death sacrifices, the times she survived, the fighting, supporting Voltron, all of it, were red flags at a crumbling mentality. Yes, this is war. No one you knew came out the same or even sane. You knew that all too well.

“Alright. The quintessence in your body is being drained at an  _exceedingly_ fast rate, which I can only assume is because of the Sincline ships being created.” Turning to the cabinet, you read over the labels carefully, “Ah. Here. This medicinal powder is made from Balmeran herbs. Mix it in your drink in the morning and it should rejuvenate your body from over straining your quintessence levels. Do not forget to rest more.”

* * *

 

If there was one thing you would need time adjusting to, it was technology. Not so much the weapons or the ships. You were familiar with the medical tools at your disposal, but the simple things like  _this_ tended to really bring home the fact that you were in space. You were far from the planet you were born in, even if it looked exactly the same last time you were there.

The sand. The ocean. The clouds and the palm trees and the little crabs scuttling away from you. And yet...

Lotor’s footsteps echoing the room was the only thing reminding you this was not real. You turned to face his approaching form, the door behind blending perfectly with the technological mirage. You won’t lie, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Full body armor in an otherwise peaceful paradise - well, a paradise to  _others_ \- wasn’t exactly fun in the sun wear.

“A beach?” he stated, taking a few seconds to observe the details around him. “You know, good doctor, you are by no means tethered here with ball and chain. If you wish to take a personal leave, I can provide you with an escort to the nearest aquatic planet.”

The Emperor crouched and sat besides you as the imitation waves lapped at both of your covered feet, then after a few seconds, you spoke up, “That’s not necessary. I was just curious to see if this room worked as well as I heard. The Castle of Lions has the same simulator chambers, but it isn’t suited for any other species except Alteans.”

This was such a peaceful scene. The sun was setting, throwing the sky under a spill of angry red and fiery orange rays. Birds were skimming across the horizon. The glow,  _oh_ , the glow was just as you remembered it. The sound of rustling trees tingled your ears despite the fact that there was no wind brushing against your skin. No spray of the ocean, no chill of an oncoming night. No wetness from the water.

Fake, but real  _enough_.

“Hunk helped re-calibrate some of the more...technical settings. I was just the guinea pig,” fingers raked through the sand, but you felt none of the grainy texture, “You may change it, if you want.”

“On the contrary, I would like to see more,” Lotor suggested, but you refused him with a shake of your head, “No? Then may I ask about this place?”

You nodded.

“This is Earth, I presume? Your home?”

“No, not mine. My  _father’s_ home. This is where he was born,” short answer, but it was detailed enough for him, “...I visited after he died, when I was honorably discharged. This was my first time seeing it.”

Now, Lotor was no blind man. He was no fool. For every moment you shared with him, he took with an ounce of gratitude. Expecting any more than you were willing to give would only make his itch unbearably annoying to hold back. Tempering himself to not push so hard, not  _yet_ , the act of discovery is only half the fun, was difficult. So, he liked to work with what he got.

“The ocean swallowed his home island the year after. It doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You miss it,” Lotor stated based on the far-away glaze in your eyes.

“I miss what I  _could’ve_ experienced growing up there. But miss it? No, not particularly,” perhaps the disconnect should have worried you after all this time, “Do you have something like that, my Emperor?”

Somewhere he missed, somewhere he could have experienced great things growing up there? Yes, but the simulator works off memories and how could he possibly have memories of extinct planets? Lotor closed his eyes, letting the computer change the room from soothing sunsets to complete darkness, then slowly rebuilt from the ground up. White water, a pinkened sky, ancient buildings of Altean knowledge.

“Where is this?” your curious voice asked, clearly interested in this somewhat heaven-esque world.

“Oriande. Beautiful, is it not?”

You said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Pretty? Yes, but what truly made a place special was the context behind it and you were interested in what story he had to share, what piece of  _himself_ he gave in return for your vulnerability. A fair exchange of sorts, one you both agreed to long ago.

“I always wanted to be an explorer when I was younger and finding Oriande was the pinnacle of my discovery,” he started with a bit of a bitter undertone, “An honorably revered homage to the Alteans of old and the secrets they keep there. Truly, it was an experience I would never forget.”

Yes, he did not gain the knowledge of alchemy, but just finding the place was good enough. Just one of his childhood dreams achieved, to retain a piece of his lost heritage. You two soaked in the ambiance of the view. Him, reflecting on his actions and his choices. You, committing that his lost Altean history is what pushed him to strive for the urge of discovery in the first place.

Soon enough, the imagery faded and the lights revealed an empty, blank room, “Shall we, good doctor? I believe I have an appointment with you soon.”

Lotor stood to his full height, a hand held out in offering. You accepted with little hesitation on your end.

* * *

 

“Emperor Lotor, I have a request.”

Both of them paused their work to face you, Allura from the ship and Lotor from the screen. Normally, it would be ideal to take whatever proper procedures you needed to formally ask for access, but by now you figured that you were somewhat in the Emperor’s good graces. You approached him just as the Princess grouped up, as well.

“What is it, good doctor? Did you need more of my blood samples?”

“No, I have enough,” you pulled out the black vial and Allura’s brows rose, “I’d like to have access to the quintessence stock in order for me to experiment with combining its properties with  _this_.”

Ah, yes. The miracle drug that saved your life. He was able to break down the components with the sample you gave him, but was otherwise unable to explore its properties any further. Perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity for you to carry on his work while he continued with -

“Absolutely  _ **not**_ ,” Allura spoke, making both heads turn, “Certain quintessence can lead to harmful effects if used improperly.”  
  
“I am aware. I have read about it and this is why I believe it can help completely bypass the after effects when administering this drug,” you argued back, perhaps a little offended she thought so careless of you, “If it works, then I can mass produce this and aid those who need it. Like the  _Coalition forces._  I know they lack medical supplies for refugees- “

“We can not risk over exposure of quintessence to those who are sensitive to it,” the Princess interrupted, your lip twitched, “Perhaps after the ships are made, I can lend a hand with your research. This is too dangerous work with alone.”

You kept your lips sealed in a firm line, completely unsatisfied with her answer. Yes, you read Honerva’s research. Yes, you finished reading upon Galra biology down to a molecular level. Yes, you knew what you were doing. Using the drug on yourself proved it worked with humans, but other species? Galras? Taujereens? Olkaris? You  _must_ perfect it before introducing it to other scientists for aid.

Lotor placed a hand on her shoulders, “Allura, I think this is an excellent opportunity at hand. Doctor, I will give you access to certain strains of quintessence that our own medical officers have used before. There are some notes on file when I started my own experiments with the Witigue drug. They are yours.”

“Thank you, my Emperor,” you gave him a curt nod, “When the both of you have the time, I would appreciate it if you overlooked my work. It would help to have pairs of fresh eyes to collaborate with me and make sure the quintessence is as useful as weapons as it is for healing.”

Allura’s concerned expression only grew more worried. Infusing quintessence and medicine? Nothing of the sort has been done before since quintessence on its own was already useful, though she knew not every unique body would accept it without harmful after effects. Perhaps Lotor was right. The sooner you cracked the code, created a drug every species can use, then the sooner the people can start healing from the war.

You stared holes into her back as she walked away.  _This_ was why you willingly joined Lotor. She held you back whereas he encouraged your freedom. And yet, it still did not get through to her that she may be a Princess, but you were not her subject. And you  _swore_ you would never blindly take orders from higher ups again.

“Anything else I can help you with, doctor?”

“Not now. We shall discuss more...later.”

* * *

 

Lotor was a man of luxury. Did he have it in his life? During his exiled years, no, he did not. He struggled some nights to survive the cold and there were days he was ever so grateful to have a roof over his head. Now, as Emperor, it took awhile for him to adjust to the lush lifestyle. Imagine his surprise when he found you sitting on the edge of his bed, patiently waiting for him.

“Are the rooms not up to your standards, darling?”

“No, they are fine, my Emperor.”

His ears twitched at that title leaving your lips.

“Then, pardon my assumption, do you wish to sleep here tonight?” he boldly suggested with an easy, welcoming smile on his lips.

“Perhaps, but that’s not why I am here,” you said, “I wanted to give you an update on my research. If you have the time, that is.”

“Allura has decided to call it a night and there is not much I can do without her alchemic powers. Come, may I join you?”

What an odd thing to hear. Lotor asking permission to be in his  _own_ bed. An Emperor, nonetheless. Either way, you nodded, and he headed to his closet to begin undressing. You turned away to give him some modesty while he stripped his armor off. Since when did it bother you to look at him? You’ve seen his body in the office. This... _this_ was a different setting.

“I managed to isolate the compound that triggers the residual pain - “

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him starting to peel his body suit down to his hips before slipping on a modest shirt.

“- and the medical officers were able to greatly help speed up the process. We have not yet tested it - “

Lotor tugged the rest of his suit down, letting it fall as he stepped out of it. The dark room did well to shadow his chiseled body and make his sharp features look even more prominent. His toned legs and smooth thighs soon became covered by silken fabric, fingers deftly tying the string in place.

“ - and...that is why I am here. Although I have completed step one faster than I expected, we have not been able to proceed to step two.  _Experimentation_.”

Though, you highly doubted space mice were an available option to choose from, especially since you were sure Allura would straight up drain your life force with a blink of an eye. No, you needed to find an animal that had the same biological properties like an Altean or a Galra, but you were unaware if such creatures even exist anymore.

“Ah, yes. How can one check the efficiency of an experiment without a test subject?” Lotor mused, stepping to the other side of the bed before taking a seat, his weight leaving an indentation, “No space bunnies available, hm?”

Lotor leisurely laid on his side, arm propping up his head, then stared at you. Or rather,  _observed_. Shoulders were lax, expression calm, the gears in your mind turning as you gazed right back at him. Of course, he himself was the epitome of relaxed right now. He gets to keep his brain occupied with another little experiment in his claws.  ** _You_**.

“I...suppose I can work with them. It may take weeks or months to finalize a firm result, though.”

“How about me?”

“What about  _you_?”

You tilted your head a bit with your brows lowered in suspicion. Was he insinuating what you think he was? And why did he look so...willing to do it? His lids were hooded and you could see that there were shadows under his eyes. Overworked? You wouldn’t be surprised. Both Allura and Lotor didn’t know their limits. It will get them killed one day. Or maybe, they weren’t aware of their body’s limits?

“Why not try experimenting on me? After Sincline is finished, of course,” Lotor’s voice was steady, yet strangely flippant as if he wasn’t suggesting live experimentation on PEOPLE.

“I do not think...that would be wise, Emperor Lotor.”

“What is your second choice?”

Second choice? Second choice was...using it on yourself. It isn’t like you haven’t injected Witigue within your body before and you were confident in your knowledge of chemistry and molecular biology. You could handle it, you’ve done it plenty of time to ensure your own survival. Now, though, it would be in the name of science.

“Myself.”  
  
“Hm. Me, or you,” he played with those few words, knowing that now your blurred morality line would be almost impossible to differentiate, “I swore I would let you explore my body. This is part of it and in the name of science, I am willing to do it. We need not smear protocol for this, good doctor.”

_I am doing this to keep my end of the deal._

Judging by your silence, you were honestly considering it.

“I will...try to find alternatives before taking your options as a last resort.”

He had expected you to promptly leave after that final word, but imagine his surprise when instead, you casually laid in his bed. Interesting, but not at all unwanted. Lotor opened the blankets in offering, thinking that perhaps you would not mind another night of his arms securing you while you slept.

In all honesty, he wasn’t tired at all. The thrill of being so close to his goal, reaching peace within the empire, unlimited quintessence -

“What are your next plans after this?”

Lotor leisurely slid his arm around your waist, not tugging, but you weren’t pulling away either. In fact, his eyes dilated when he felt the tips of your fingers skim over his covered hip in an almost teasing adventure. Once your palm fully rested on the dip of his waist, you sidled up to his chest as you kept your gaze firm with his. The question.  _What do you plan on doing?_

“Planets whose resources are  **critically** strained due to my father’s unsustainable practices will be tended to first. A little humanitarian services is long overdue, no? We will need the Olkari’s help on this. Having their engineering knowledge may further aid in siphoning and transporting quintessence across the universe.”

A noble choice after ending the war. Unlike Lance, you knew that just releasing enslaved planets when their resources were otherwise drained to near unreparable would only end up sentencing them to starvation and death. Ten thousands years made societies rely on the Empire for survival, even if the decision was ultimately out of their hands.

“With Voltron and Sincline, I can begin work to restore the Empire as a whole. Those who claimed disloyalty and wrought destruction in the wake of my crowning will be stopped,” Lotor paused, only because he hadn’t noticed your hand had made its way up to his cheek, “Times are changing for the better. And those who do not change with it, will…”

You cupped his jaw, stroked his cheekbones softly, and he unceremoniously let out a big yawn with his fangs glinting in the night. A content groan escaped his chest, now realizing how comfortable he was. How his mind seemed to have calmed down from the days’ rushing thoughts. Did this pillow always feel so good? Or the comforter so warm? Ah, the luxuries. It made him weak.

“Do you plan on staying?”

Lotor’s eyes slid closed.

“Staying with…”

_Me_.

* * *

 

“Doctor, you checked them out for flight, yes?”

“Yes, Coran. Physically, they are fit. I saw no problems with their body’s health and I did make sure they had a full days rest before today’s launch.”

Coran’s concerns were coming from a good place, you knew. He was practically Allura’s father at this point, watching over her and giving advice when needed. Even sharing the same pain and comforting each other in the face of a daunting reality that they were both the  _last_ living Alteans in the universe. You understood their connection. Perhaps not relating to it, but you understood it.

“Shouldn’t we be a  _little_ more concerned about this? I mean, last time anyone went in the quintessence field, Zarkon turned evil,” Lance piped in, clearly disgruntled by the entire plan.

“Zarkon fell prey to his own evil instincts,” your attention switched to Shiro, “The quintessence field didn’t create them. It  **revealed** them.”

No. That wasn’t right. You read Honerva’s research, handled quintessence yourself, and there was nothing that supported his claim. Then again, Shiro faced Zarkon himself. He battled him for the lion, but just based on your own findings, it felt like something was... _missing_. A major component about the Rift and the quintessence. If what he said was true, then either you were immune to it or you were unaware of the effects.

But you felt fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, except perhaps feeling a little more... **light** around Lotor. You were more inclined to believe that was just the friendship between you two. The growing  _something_ between you two. Something you only saw as respect for him. Lotor only solidified that respect when you told him no a week ago.

Of course you expected him to listen as anyone should, but you noticed he did  _more_ than that.

“We’re prepared just in case there is an accident,” you explained to the group, “If the quintessence does anything to their bodies, I will be the first to know. The second they are heading back, I assure you, I'll run a full physical on the both of them. Right now, I have their vitals up on my screen.”

Part of you was also... _excited_ about this discovery. Was quintessence the true reason why the universe fell into 10,000 years of suffering and loss?

So far, nothing strange. Perhaps their hearts picked up the closer they got to the ruined Daibazaal remains, perhaps your own was beating loudly in your chest as Coran counted down until the ship would reach the gate. You didn’t care for war. You  _didn’t_. You cared that there was something left afterwards, something that would show you there was a future for all.

The chart readings went blank the second the ship disappeared in a blinding light.

“You know, Shiro, I never did like waiting,” you told him out of the blue as seconds turned to minutes, “That’s what I like about you. The soldiers get jobs done, the medics wait for the inevitable.”

He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, understanding your message that would have been odd or offensive to any other person in the room. War does that to people. They force strangers to connect in a bond no other could experience. You couldn't say this to Coran or Hunk and expect them to know what nonsense you were spouting without giving you some form of pity. Giving you distance with a cautious gaze. Isolating you.

Shiro took a deep breath. He knows what you’re asking.

_Is this the end of it all?_

“Don’t worry, doctor. You know what I always say. Patience yields - “

The blaring red screen cut him off suddenly, announcing that there was something wrong. No, not wrong, just an incoming ship? Your brows furrowed in confusion. They couldn’t be back already. Your screen didn't pick up their returning vitals. Everyone’s eyes focused on the large screen showing a very much different ship than they expected. Wasn’t that...an Altean pod?

“Shiro, it’s Keith.”

“Keith! A-Are you okay?”

“Where’s Lotor?”

And just like that, the air in the room became cold.  **Frigid**.

“Emperor Lotor is with Allura in the quintessence field. They managed to get through and should be returning shortly with their results,” you explained, to which Keith only replied with two words.

_**“Oh, no.”** _

Everyone went down to the docking station, you included. Keith sounded grim, you could even go as far to say a bit scared. The sound of the ship opening was unsettling and when he finally approached you all, that’s when you noticed he looked different. Vastly different from the last time you saw him at the coalition headquarters. He was more...stern. Unmoving. Resolute in his eyes.

“We need to stop Lotor. He’s been lying to all of us!”

“Wh-Lying? About what?” Shiro asked, hesitated in asking, and it was rare he was  _ever_ caught off guard.

**“Everything!”**

The sound of a new voice demanding attention left everyone shocked in surprise. And, ashamed to say, even you. Two women and a wolf? A Galra who wore the same suit as Keith and an Altean, an  _actual_ Altean, revealed themselves. The group began bombarding the newcomers with questions, Keith too, but the only thing you could focus on was the little girl.

Another Altean. A  _living_ Altean. Something...something was not right. Something was missing.

Your mind reverted back to your old habits. Everything you thought of, from meeting Lotor up until now, nothing seemed out of place. You had every information available at your beck and call. Everything about him you discovered on your own. Everything about Lotor and his motives for a better future. This...this life long experiment couldn’t be a mistake. It  _couldn’t_.

You both entered this with a mutual agreement of respect in mind. The evidence was clear as day. So then, why the accusations against him? Why was the mere presence of this Altean setting your mind on edge? Why did that seething tone in her voice send a familiar chill down your spine? And why was it hard to breath?

“This is Romelle. And I think she should tell her own story.”


	5. Fifth Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good doctor has to make a choice.

When it comes to the horrors you experienced in life, experienced on the battlefield  _and_ off of it, there was always one common factor in every occurrence: desperation. The captain who cut off her own leg to save her crew. The soldier who graced a quick, painless death to his dying brother in arms. The doctor who willfully injected drugs to stay alive for one more day, just  _one_ more, despite knowing the grave consequences of repeated use.

Desperation drove innocent souls to face the harshest ultimatum: what will you do to survive?

And you  **hated** it. You hated making that decision when there were no other options left besides death. When you would rather lose a piece of yourself every time you took that needle to live. When you would deliver a mercy killing for the soldier you knew wouldn’t make it. And you hated lying, hated keeping it all together just to survive because,  _fuck_ , if you didn’t, then who would? Who would take up the mantle that no poor unfortunate bastard would dare touch?

You did. And you gave yourself the right to do so. You decided who lived and who died, who you felt guilt for and who you knew earned it. No one else bore these sins in God’s eye, but God was not here. God abandoned you long ago and left you to your own devices. And you took them in your hands, changed your wrongs so you could see the light of day once more, made your own code to follow. Your own code to break and reform over and over again.

And you swore on your very life, your very  **fucked** up life, that you would follow it and no one else’s. For your own damn survival.

“That’s...horrifying.”

Alteans being painfully drained of quintessence against their knowledge? Against their will? No, that wasn’t just horrifying. That was evil. Pure, raw evil. The kind of evil that Hell itself would crown king of the most sadistic atrocities ever committed in history. And while you had your share of following decisions condemning acts of violence for the sake of justice or out of pure revenge, Romelle’s story, the way she told it, the dripping hated coating her  _every_ word, left you on high alert.

But it wasn't because whether you believed her, but because you recalled several times where acts of desperation tugged on vulnerable heart strings to commit murder, commit barbarism that led to irreparable damage on people. Left damage on people like you.  _Don't panic. Don't think about it. Don't think about how they had the best intentions in mind for you, for your father, for their war, for their **lies** -_

“He’s a monster.”

Something didn’t add up and you were ashamed to say it took the death of your father for you to recognize missing information early on in any situation.

“Shiro,” you gained his attention, brows knitted and eyes unable to leave Romelle’s vengeful face, “This doesn’t feel right.”

Nothing added up, nothing from Lotor’s lectures about quintessence and restoring the Empire and healing the universe led you to objectively accept her story. You knew that to see both sides of the coin before making an action, you needed to step into both people’s shoes. That is how to be  _fair_. That is how justice has failed you in the past. Back then, it wasn't about who was right or who was wrong, only that someone paid the price.

Was her story true? You would say she needed to believe it with all her shattered, broken heart. Death does that to people. It clouds, it puts them in a mind where any answer would be the right answer, it spreads lies that revenge will bring a lost loved one at peace. Bring  _closure_. And grieving for death? Never before have you met someone who didn’t cry at a funeral.

“I know. I  _know_ , doc,” he agreed, keeping his stern gaze on the group, “Now isn’t the time, though. We have to make sure the Princess is safe first.”

And that was exactly your concern. It wasn't her you were worried about. It was  _Lotor_.

It doesn't take much for a story to be heard, even less to be felt, and right now everyone felt Romelle’s story. Having Keith corroborating only led the group to trust her more. All of them did, because they were young, because Coran was Altean, because every single person here had some sort of history with the Galra. However, only two had history with Lotor. You and Shiro.

The both of you could sense trouble. You could especially see a tragedy unfold before your very eyes faster than any other could. It wasn't something you were proud of, but you'd be damned if you said thinking ten steps ahead didn't save your life more than once. And right now, when the pieces don't fit, people would do anything, say  _anything_ , to make it work in their favor. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The second your monitor beeped back to life, indicating Allura and Lotor were successful on their journey, was the second you knew Romelle wasn't here for justice. She was here for revenge, and one of the worst kinds of all.

“What are you waiting for?  _Open fire!_ ” she ordered without a smidgen of remorse.

“Absolutely  **not**! The Emperor and Allura are in there,” you countered, facing Coran who was the only one who could command the console, “Open the hangar, let them in. I need to check their vitals, see if they were affected by quintessence exposure first before anything else.”

“No, all of us stay together,” Shiro’s brows lowered in determination, but even you could see the conflict stirring in them, “Once the Princess is secure, we will take down Lotor.”

“Shiro, you know I don’t approve of this,” you voiced, Romelle’s eyes widening with disbelief, “I can’t let this happen.  _We_ shouldn’t let this happen.”

 **We**. Shiro knew this was wrong, no matter how all the signs pointed in one direction. He knew why you were adamant about being fair, he just wasn’t sure if it was because of your connection with Lotor or because of your personal history saying otherwise. Shiro can not turn his back on the innocent, but he can not deny what is right.

“You would side with him?!” Romelle pleaded, gobsmacked that after sharing her pain, she was not being supported, “He killed my brother and many of my people!  _Murdered_ them!”

“I don’t deny your story - “  
  
“It isn’t a story! I saw them dying with my own two eyes!”

You clenched your jaw shut, gritting your teeth and narrowing your eyes at her. At everyone, at Pidge who seethed at you while remembering the history between you and her father. At Shiro, who was always the one that at least listened to your reasoning. Your logic that saved him, saved others, many more times than he can remember. Both of them knew what you were going to say. You were going to abuse your power again.

“They are my patients and no one is to lay a hand on them when they return,” you announced with a cold, frigid tone of finality, “ _ **No one**_.”

_If you respect me, if you thank me for saving you, if you trust me with your life, then trust me with other people’s lives as well._

The door opened and everyone froze, everyone sent death glares at Lotor. Now, tension was rising with each passing second, and it only took one little reaction to make a solution explode. The Emperor’s body instantly felt it, making his hackles rise in defense. He stepped behind Allura, behind the only other body that could protect him from Lance’s gun should he decide to shoot first and ask questions later.

Allura’s eyes widened at the mere sight of Romelle.

“Lotor is a monster and has been harvesting Altean quintessence for generations!”

“He’s a  **murderer**!” Pidge spat at Lotor, “He’s been lying to us all this time!”

“Pidge, Romelle, don’t - “ you orders fell on deaf ears before you could even get it all out.

“No! You’re part of his Empire, the Galra Empire!” she let her rage take over again, let it seek refuge in Romelle’s tragedy, “ _His_ Empire! Lotor’s just like his father!”

 _Add heat to a solution_  -

“You know  _NOTHING_ about what you speak!’ Lotor yelled back, louder, to be heard by anyone, “Allura, listen to me.”

-  _to induce a reaction._

“I’ve dedicated my life to preserving Altean culture.”

You focused your attention on the both of them. They always said that eyes are the window to the soul. You saw dark clouds of uncertainty storming in hers. Fear, disbelief, broken trust. Hesitation. She avoided looking at him, avoided listening to his words he so  _desperately_ needed her to hear. Then, you saw it, you saw the switch flick in her eyes. You saw her stare at Romelle.

“Shiro…” you took a step forward to Allura, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest, “Shiro, I - you have to stop this.”

“Allura, do not let this ruin everything we have worked for,” Lotor begged, his hand cupping her clenched ones at her hip, “Think about what we experienced in the quintessence field.”

You prepared for many unforeseen circumstances in your life. It was a necessity at this point, but you never thought in the span of your existence that you would experience injustice on a monumental level  _twice_. They always say if you blink, you’ll miss it. If you aren’t paying attention, you’ll miss important information. Part of you wish you did, yet another knew that if you did not bear witness to the scene before your eyes, you would have been unprepared. Ignorant.

Allura clutched her hand around Lotor’s arm in a fierce grip, anger and rage guiding her actions, then hurled him over her shoulder with an immense amount of  _power_.

The power of the misguided, the power of the heart, the power of a  **judge**.

“ALLURA!” you screamed at her, feeling your own temper rising at the abhorrent scene in front of you, “What the  _ **FUCK**_ are you doing?!”

You thought she was good. You thought she was improving, honestly changing for the better. You thought...you thought wrong. After all this time, it wasn’t Lotor fooling everyone. It was Allura. Your legs automatically rushed past her cringing form, either ashamed of herself or of him, you didn’t know. You didn’t  _care_. Lotor was unconscious when you kneeled down and turned him over.

Fuck.  _ **Fuck**_! This was all wrong! This wasn’t justice, this was...it was worse. It was forced silence.

“Doc, step away from Lotor-” Lance cautiously warned, oblivious to the fact that he was already knocked out.

“ **NO**!” you faced him, face the entire group with a turmoil of disappointment and barely contained wrath, “Shiro, restrain Allura.  _Now!_ She isn’t stable!”

You checked Lotor’s scalp for any serious indentations that would otherwise indicate his skull might’ve cracked or caved in. Nothing but blood from a split cut. A quick check to his pulse, weak but there, did little to temper the bitter taste on your tongue. What happened? What happened to the world, to the universe, for it to end with such violence? And for what? For  _what_?

Shiro did as you commanded, or at least, tried to. He witnessed an atrocity today, one he thought was reserved only on the confines of Earth. But war is war and we are but simple souls with feelings. If anything, the Black Paladin realizes this would make the team doubt him, but when has that ever affected him before? With firm determination, he approached Allura, who was still grieving with the reality of the situation.

“Shiro, she isn’t going to hurt anyone, you know that!” Keith butted in, but the only response he got was a loud, painful scream coming from deep within Shiro’s chest, “S...Shiro?”

You heard punching, you heard grunting and pain and shrieks of a mechanized arm landing blow upon blow against weak flesh. The second you turned to face the commotion, you were met eye to eye with the barrel of a gun. Your friend, your old friend that suffered with you, was the one pressing death against your forehead. Heart beating faster, nearly dropping to your stomach, you kept your stare fixated with his cold, soldier worn face.

The face of a killer who has seen  _too_ much.

“Takashi, don’t do this,” there was a quiver in your voice, a faint one, one you didn’t even know you still had after all these years, “I’m here to help you. I’m here to help...him.”

Everyone else was knocked unconscious, there was a deafening explosion coming from the hangar, but all you could focus on was the very close possibility that death was literally staring you in the face. Shiro wouldn’t do this. He  _wouldn’t_. Birds of a feather, he said once. War brought you two together and forged a bond of pain and suffering in your hardened spirits.  _We survived._

He lowered the gun and in a gravelly voice ordered, “Come with me.”

You nodded yes, agreeing only out of the desperation to stay alive. Shiro hauled up Lotor’s body and slung him over his shoulder before rushing to one of the Altean pods. Following suit, thinking about what was wrong with Shiro, what was wrong with Lotor, and what was wrong with Allura, you felt your stomach twisting in uneasy knots. You weren’t sure if it was the sickening anxiety or something else, but your mind was on overload.

A hand grabbed at your ankle and you quickly looked down, only to scowl at the Princess of diplomacy. She was bleeding down the side of her temple. She was silently begging, hoping against all odds, that you would stay. The Paladins need you, she once said.  _We could use your expertise. We could end this war with your help_. Right now, Allura was the one who needed help, laying at your feet like a wounded noble she was.

You glared at her, yanked your foot out of her already weak grasp, then insulted in the most truthful tone you could muster.

“Don’t  _ **fucking**_ touch me, you wretched  _liar_.”

* * *

 

“Shiro, come in! It’s Keith! Look, I don’t know - “

He ended the transmission before Keith could finish his sentence. Your attention was on Lotor, but you were also well aware that you were dancing on edge.  _Tense_. As you checked the unconscious man’s neck, making sure nothing was snapped out of place, you took a few seconds to warily glance at your old friend. Shiro was stoic, back to the captain in command, and it left you reminiscing on the good old days.

Oh, fuck. Lotor’s shoulder has popped out of place. Dislocated, most likely from the throw. The brace protected his back, but not all of him. Taking a deep breath, you gripped onto his shoulder and felt around with your thumb, locating the socket. Staying disjointed for too long would have side-effects, some permanent if not taken care of early on -

You stopped your mind from rambling and pushed his shoulder back into place, the pain making him jolt awake with an agonizing yelp. Immediately, his face contorted into a snarl, his hand coming up to grip at his sore joints. For a few seconds, he sat there, gritting his teeth as he took in his surroundings. Then, they landed on you, on your own calculating expression taking him in.

“What happened?” he asked, moving to fully sit up, “Where are you taking me?”

“You’re being detained for…” for  _what_? “For questioning. Allura - “

Lotor’s eyes widened as everything came rushing back. That Altean girl. The accusations. All of them intimidating him, leaving him little to no way to defend himself aside from using his words. And then  **Allura**. The woman he trusted, the woman he shared his work with,  _believed_ in. She betrayed him. She hurt him. She abandoned him. And that bile in his stomach began rising when everything he felt began clawing to the surface.

The hatred of being used, discarded for his actions, rejected as a child and now as a man. Allura was just like -

“No, we must return,” he shook his head, pushing aside your hand and interrupting your examination, “I  _must_ talk to her.”

“After that, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be anywhere near danger,” you tried to reason, “You can't go back there now. Both of you are under arrest until this problem gets sorted out.”

 _Hopefully_. Hopefully it could get sorted out.

Lotor saw your dedication waiver the longer you two kept eye contact. He listened, but he knew Allura was the one he needed to see right now. He could explain himself. He needed her help. It was a mistake and it did not even occur to him that he was going through the five stages of grief upon seeing all his hard work crumble to pieces. Denial. Anger.  _Bargaining_. Lotor knew he felt something for the Princess. He knew she did reciprocate those feelings.

He knew with all his heart. It was just...a misunderstanding. He had to vindicate himself to her. The fate of the universe relied on it.

“Shiro, the cuffs.”

The pod landed and Lotor willingly complied to you handling him. He was wasting time, but with you and Shiro guarding him from escaping, he knew he didn't have a chance. However, if he was stuck in a cell for holding, then who knows what would happen to the colony. Who knows what would happen to the ones he saved, the ones he preserved? If only he could talk to Allura now, try to reason with her.

With the two of you escorting him, he kept his mind busy with finding a way out of this. He spotted the Sincline ships in the hangar, which could only mean that...who could possibly have known about his work? And who were piloting them to reach the Galra fleet? Lotor’s mind was putting the pieces together and, right when the door opened, there was Ezor and Zethrid standing guard.

“Zethrid. Ezor.”

“Who’s the tag-along?”

A loud bang and the hull of the ship was breached, air whooshing in the new hole, and you looked to see who could have caused the damage. The black lion’s maw was peering in, facing you three, as you held onto Lotor’s elbow so you did not get sucked out into space. The doors shut behind you, securing the airlock and now,  _now_ you were fully able to stand to take in the Galras before you. His generals. His  _ex_ generals.

“We’ll take it from here,” Zethrid ordered, holding a hand out to stop Shiro and you.

“Emperor Lotor just woke from consciousness, he may need medical attention before being confined in a cell.”

“I am  _fine_ , doctor,” Lotor spoke up, much to your disagreeing look, “I will not be needing your assistance as of now.”  
  
“I suggest you rethink this - “

“ _Enough_. Ezor, let’s go!” Zethrid interrupted, pulling Lotor away.

He didn’t bother sparing you a second glance. It was Shiro’s arm gripping on your wrist that stopped you from following him. His hold was strong, firm, more firmer than you ever recall how he handled you in the past. His thumb was in the right position to snap your wrist in half and that knowledge made you stare at him in question. You didn’t resist. You knew resistance would be worthless.

“Let go of me, Shiro.”

He matched your gaze with his own hardened one, then released you. Something was...off with Shiro. He should have been able to detain Allura easily, but he instead attacked the entire group. His  _family_. You have heard of leaders going rogue, but this? This isn't something he would do. There were no signs indicating a cracking mentality. Not your friend, not Shiro. Was he...

“Captain, are you relapsing?”

And yet, before you could observe him longer to pick out anything, anything that he was going to be okay, Shiro turned and left you standing there alone. You called out to him once.  _Twice_. But no reply. Was he muttering to himself? You tried again. One more time, just  _one_ more,  _Shiro, please, give me a sign_. _We were in this together, captain. My captain._

“Where are you going? Shiro!” you called out, “We still have to handle this. Emperor Lotor and Allura, Voltron - we can’t let this fall.”

No response, no recognition when the pilot barrier covered him. His ship took off and that was the last you saw of him. All you could do now was stand there and watch the ship leave a trail of light in its dust. Too fast, he was gone too fast, and you had no idea why he didn’t listen to you. He did before, even with a gun to your head. He heard you, so why now?

Nothing was adding up. Something was...missing. Too many missing pieces. You had no control on the situation.

The Galra ship jolted, engines whirring with power, and jumped to hyperspace. You braced yourself against the wall, finding that there wasn't anything else which could help stabilize you. There wasn’t... _anyone_ else. No one except Lotor was here, but with him being locked up, your options were dwindling down to solely relying on you. But this is what you wanted, right? You wanted to rely on no one but yourself.

“-if you are with me, we need to get to the Sincline ships now.”

Lotor’s footsteps echoed the hallway, rushed, and followed by his generals. The ones who willfully tried to kill him at the exchange. You recognize them. The Emperor halted at seeing your form holding onto the wall then ordered his crew to continue on without him. When he stood before you, uncuffed and pulling you up to steady your feet, he was just about to speak to you. Explain some vital information you needed to hear.

That is, until saw what he was searching for since the day he laid eyes upon you.

 **Confliction**. Not of him, but of  _yourself_. You were well aware of the circumstances now dawning upon you, and the predator and prey were facing off. No. No, you were no prey. If anything, Lotor saw you as his equal in some ways. In a lot of ways, before any of this catastrophe in his life happened. But now that he was here, he was Emperor, he was on the brink of letting the universe down, letting people he  _cared_ for down, he realized that breaking you to this point was pivotal.

You were a partner within his Empire, but Allura was more than that.

Lotor should have asked if you were still by his side. Still with the Empire. Still with  _him_. But no words came out. His own mind was overclocking with plans that needed to be done, words that needed to be said, and how he could tell Allura that he  **needs** her. He needs her by his side more than  _you_. Allura had something special with him. They were made for each other. They worked well together.

“I need you to remain here,” he gently gripped your elbows, ordering you to stay but knowing damn well you can leave if you wanted to, “I must get Allura back.”

“You can’t go, Lo-Emperor Lotor. You were unconscious for a long time, it isn’t safe for you.”

He saw something then, something small in your eyes.

“Allura is dangerous. We barely got you out of there before she could’ve done something worse to you. I've seen it happen before.”

Was it fear? Fear of...him or for him? Or fear of something else?

“Listen to me. Shiro and I brought you here to face a trial. If you leave, if you  _go_ , then there is nothing I can do to help you.”

Fear of history repeating itself.

“I need to find him,  **we** need to find him. It’s your only chance at proving your innocence. One witness can not - will not be enough.”

But you knew one was enough to prove him guilty.

Lotor did it. He  _finally_ broke you. He made you choose. He no longer gave you the option to be neutral. And that itch? That one which nagged and teased him for so long? Now that he scratched it, scratched  _you_ , he found it wasn't...good. It wasn't satisfying. If anything, deep within his chest, it actually hurt. His hands dropped down your arm, gently skimming over your wrist before threading your fingers with his.

One of the rarest shows of affection since that kiss. A simple joining of hands.

“Don’t do this, my Emperor.”

His face already told you he made a decision. You didn't understand why. You gave him every logical explanation why this was a bad idea. This was not going to turn out how he expects it, but without proof, why would he possibly listen to you? You needed hard evidence, not experience. That was the cold truth of justice. The rules didn't apply here. This was the Emperor of the Galra Empire. Whatever morals you nitpicked from Earth don’t work here.

When he let your hand go, you reacted. You refused to let him do this. Not again. You  _can't_ lose someone again. You turned him around and forced him against the wall, but not as a way to subdue him. No, you were  **hugging** him. Arms wound tightly around his chest and your face buried in the crook of his neck, Lotor found himself immobilized. Willfully immobilized.

“Tell me,” you whispered, voice quiet and composure failing, “Tell me right  ** _fucking_** now. Is it true?”

Lotor’s strong arms returned the embrace, thoughts quieting down significantly with you pressed against him like so. This felt...calming. You were panicking, nails digging into his suit as if to tether him here, yet he felt his tense muscles and unyielding determination wither. He wasn’t quite aware of what you were asking, either. Was it true? Was  _this_ true? Was his leaving truly the only way to clear his name from those horrendous accusations?  
  
“No. No, my dear, it is not true.”

He felt you slump your arms down slowly. A sign trust. You were letting him go. You shouldn’t, you know justice isn’t going to be fair to him. But what was  _fair_? Who are you to judge the universe? Lotor slipped out of your grasp then headed for the door, headed away and into the inevitable battle without neither you or Shiro aiding him this time. It took all your willpower not to chase after him, not to pull him back and beg again and again, despite the answer always being the same.

You hated it. You  _hated_ making that decision. You hated that war has yet again yanked someone you care deeply about from your life.


End file.
